


Threats to America

by goldenhawkk



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hitman, Alternate Universe - Human, Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Child Abuse, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor is oblivious, Multi, Naive Markus, Non explicit autistic Connor, Oblivious Markus, PINING MARKUS, Parent Hank Anderson, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900, Slow Burn, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, connor is bad at feelings, politician markus, rk900 is conan - Freeform, the first three chapters are just world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21533929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenhawkk/pseuds/goldenhawkk
Summary: (INDEFINITE HIATUS)Connor was born and raised to be apart of the government agency DATA, or Defense against the Threats to America. Or, more specifically, the top secret sub organization Assassinations of the Threats to America.His next mission focuses in on Detroit, Michigan, where he's assigned to take out the human rights leader, Markus Manfred, and supposed accomplice, Hank Anderson, in a way he's never done before.Befriending them.
Relationships: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor, Kara/Luther (Detroit: Become Human), Upgraded Connor | RK900/Simon
Comments: 31
Kudos: 187





	1. cold

It was way too cold for this. 

The cool metal of the sniper pressed against his cheek as he peered down the scope. His eye lingered over the crosshairs, lining them up with the temple of the asset. He let him speak a second longer, ramble on about how America was just a pawn and they, the queen, could easily take it out, before he tired of the man. He swiftly pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through his brain. 

His followers screamed, but Connor learned to tune those things out after time. He disassembled the gun, placing it into his case before sliding off from his perch. He pulled the tie of his jacket from around his waist and pulled it on. He quickly boarded his motor bike and sped toward the border between the Koreas. 

He pulled off the highway into a small motel right on the border, parking his bike in the back before grabbing a stone and throwing it at a window. It slowly slid open. “State your code, name, and rank.”

“RK800, Connor Stern, rank purple.”

“Come in.” 

Connor climbed up the side of the building, using the crumbling bricks of the wall as foot and handholds. As he reached the window, an arm reached out to help pull him up. As he entered the room, he was met with the worried face of his younger brother. 

“You okay?”

Connor grinned and ruffled his hair. “Always am, Conan. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

Connor walked over to the minifridge, pulling out chicken nuggets to heat up for a small dinner. 

“Even if I don’t have to, I will. It’s my duty as your big brother.” 

Connor gave him a deadpan look. “You’re younger than me.”

“But I am two inches taller, Connie. Either way, were you successful?”

“Of course I was. I never miss.”

“Asshole.”

“What?”

“You passed me in kills again! They always give you the easy jobs.”

“Thats bull. Remember Volskaya in Russia?”

“When you almost got shot ‘cause you fucked up? Yes. Remember when I had to befriend a president-hating-almost-dictator?”

“C’mon, that only took you a week!

“Still hard!” 

“You do know it’s because she trusts you more, right? You’ve always been her favorite, even when we were kids.”

“Connor, come on, that’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. That’s why I’ve never been on a long-term mission. She doesn’t trust me. She thinks you’re like me, but better.”

“Connor--”

“No, no, it’s… it’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it.”

Connor wasn’t looking at him, but he could feel the guilt radiating off of Conan. He tries his best to pretend like he’s stone cold, but he has a soft spot for his brother, and Connor pretends to not know it. Conan believes it’s his civic duty to protect Connor to the best of his ability. When they were children, their mother was always punished Connor much harsher, so after they were left alone, Conan was there to comfort him. The motherly instinct never left him, but neither did the complete loyalty to their mother. 

“Well, I may have some good news then? I heard from David that she’s planning to give you a big mission soon. The biggest either DATA or ATA has ever seen.”

Connor barked out a harsh laugh. “Sure it’s not for you?” 

He turned to face his brother, immediately feeling guilty when he saw the sadness on his face. 

“I’m-I’m sorry, Conan, I’m tired, I’m just gonna go to bed. You should too, we have an early flight tomorrow.”

“That’s probably for the best. Goodnight, Connor.”

“Goodnight.”

His dinner was left uneaten. 

Connor was exhausted. The jetlag was kicking his ass, considering he had to go back to work as soon as he landed in DC. He was gripping his third cup of coffee as he tried not to fall asleep at his desk. Conan actually had to escort him out of the gun range (you know those people who could only sleep for two minutes and still walk around at full energy? That’s him). His head was about to hit his desk and wake him up again when Carlos tapped his shoulder. 

“Amanda’s asking for you. I heard it’s important.”

To sum up Connor’s thoughts, it was basically a consistent streak of _Fuck_. He stood up and walked towards the elevator. It’s out of order. He decided to take a gamble and stumble down the stairs instead of throwing himself down the elevator shaft. He passed by a lower rank agent, face pure white, the universal symbol of ‘I just talked to Amanda and she’s pissed’. Connor suddenly decided to walk a bit faster. 

He reached sub level five. The entire level is only about 20 x 30 feet, Amanda’s office using up 15 x 20 of it. He took a deep breath and knocked. A stern voice called out, “Come in.”

He pulled the door open to be met with Amanda sitting at her desk. “Take a seat, Connor.”

Connor tried not to let his nerves show as he strode across the office and sat across from her. The woman glanced up from her paperwork to look at Connor. “Would you like any tea, Connor?"

Connor didn’t. Just the idea of drinking tea made Connor sick. He knew she knew he was tired. He knew it would be periwinkle tea. Growing up with Amanda as his adoptive mother, the idea of even touching periwinkle tea again made his head spin. He can still see Amanda smiling her cruel smile at him, setting a tea cup in front of him, and saying in a sickly sweet voice, “Here, this will make you focus, Boy.”

“Yes, Amanda. Thank you.”

The electric kettle in the corner of the room let out a shrill squeal, letting Amanda know it was ready to be brewed. She stood, brought out two tea cups and bags, and began brewing. Connor didn’t have to wait long before a cup of pure periwinkle tea was set in front of him. He took a tentative sip, holding back a gag. 

“Connor, are you aware of why I called you here today?”

Connor had a feeling her did, but he tried his best to ignore it. Almost always, that line is followed by his mistakes and punishment. 

“No, Amanda.” 

“We have a… special… assignment for you to go on. Are you interested?”

No. He’s not. He has an odd feeling that he was going to be put in danger because of this mission. Despite the pit in his stomach, he continued the conversation (he learned long ago to ignore in gut instinct).

“Of course, Amanda.” 

She pulled up a presentation for Connor to see. A light skinned man with heterochromia was displayed on the screen. Multiple bullet points were displayed along the edge of the picture. 

“This is Markus Manfred. 2020 presidential candidate.”

Connor has heard about Senator Manfred. He started his career with painting controversial murals around Detroit, depicting his beliefs about racism, homophobia, transphobia, and the mistreatment of animals under the pseudonym _Jericho._ At age twenty-one, he became an avid activist, leading many peaceful protests around the country. Once he turned twenty-five, he ran for congress, served one term in the house and then went on to be elected as a senator of Michigan where he has served for the past eight years. His campaigns mainly focused around equality for races and genders or better learning environments for all kids, but the event that everyone was the battle he had on the congress floor with a conservative Alabama senator in early 2015. In heated discussion surrounding gay marriage, Markus was giving his all to defend the rights of LGBT people across the nation. When the senator asked him why he was fighting so hard for the bill to pass, Markus openly outed himself as gay. In June 2019, on the third aniversary of gay marriage being legalized, he announced his campaign for presidency. Even in late September, he was already bounding ahead of all other democratic opponents. 

All in all, Connor could not think of a single thing that Manfred has done in order for DATA to kill him. 

“Senator Manfred may seem innocent, but we have picked up a possible hit from him and his groupees on the president. We know its coming from somewhere inside of the Jericho circle, but we’re not sue from where. But, the one thing that’s sure to kill the snake is…”

“Cutting off the head. I understand, Amanda.”

“Boy, I have not finished. Drink some more tea, it seems like you’ve forgotten all of the… _lessons_ … I’ve taught you, Connor.”

“I’m sorry, Amanda.”

“Speak out of line again and I’ll have to consider you not ready for an assignment this intense. Will I have to pass up this opportunity for you and hand it to Conan? _Again?_ ”

“No, Amanda.”

“Good,” Amanda sent one last harsh glare to Connor. He forced his eye to keep meeting hers. “You should become friends with his current DPD assigned bodyguard, Hank Anderson. We’re not sure if he’s in kahoots with the plan or not, but even if he isn’t, he’ll be less suspicious of you once Markus is killed.

“You will work with Hank and Conan will be checking on you occasionally. You must befriend the entirety of the Jericho group, but you will not, under any circumstances, make emotional connections to anyone you meet in Detroit. Even though I’d trust Conan much more with this assignment, your greater number of kills at least let’s you have a chance to succeed. You have six months to complete the hit. Once Markus is killed, frame North for the murder. Her violent outbreaks won’t make it too terribly hard to do so. I’m taking a gamble with you, boy. Do _not_ disappoint me, Connor.”

“Yes, Amanda. I will do whatever it takes to complete my mission.”

“Good. You leave tomorrow. You are dismissed.” 

Connor rose from his seat and exited the office. 

The air around him was suddenly too warm.


	2. heart rate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The DPD is an interesting place. Hank Anderson was even more intriguing.

Connor’s heart rate is too high for this.

Connor isn’t nervous, though. Infact, Connor is never nervous. He’s an assassin trained since childhood to be cold, calculating… not… _emotional_. So, no matter what anyone says, he isn’t nervous. He truly wasn’t, no matter what any annoying younger brothers say.

The police station he was meeting his ‘partner’ at was… nice. Acceptable, for a low budget police station. The lobby had the dirtiness of most police stations that dealt with murderers on a regular basis. A corner held a reddish-brownish stain that was most likely blood. The receptionist had a soft face, but a hardened look in her eyes from the things she had inevitably seen some less than stellar things that came through this lobby. He smiled at the woman, not completely sure if he was soothing the girl or himself. 

“Hello,” he greeted softly, “I have a meeting with Captain Fowler today.”

“Connor Stern?” He gave her a curt nod. “Yup! I gotcha right here. Go to the bullpen and he should be in the giant glass box… but Lieutenant Anderson isn’t currently in. You can wait at his desk until Captain Fowler is ready for you both."

When the receptionist said ‘giant glass box,’ Connor wasn’t expecting an actual _giant glass box_ , though, Connor was met with a transparent box, showing off Captain Fowler and a gruff man across from him. Connor wondered if the fact of having a glass office was his own choice, almost saying to his officers “I am god. Mess with me, and I will smite you down.” Perhaps it wasn’t his own choice, maybe something happened where he was caught doing something against the rules, causing the need for him to be constantly watched.

Connor took a glance at the nameplates of the desks until he found the one labeled **Lt. Anderson** . He sat in the chair on the outside of the desk. No matter how patient Connor was trained to be, he doesn’t like sitting and wasting time so the lieutenant not being at the station already was… _irritating,_ to say the least. He tapped his fingers on his thigh for a few seconds before spotting a door signed with **BREAK ROOM** . Connor almost let out a sigh of relief. HE could go grab a cup of coffee. He turned to an officer whose name tag read **C. MILLER**.

“Excuse me, officer, when will the lieutenant be in?”

The man who he was talking to snorted into his coffee. “It depends on where he was last night.”

Miller nudged him with his elbow. “Wilson! He usually doesn’t come in until after noon. With him on the senator’s case, who knows.”

Son of a bitch… it’s only 11 am. Connor forced out a friendly chuckle. “Well, I guess I have enough time to get some coffee then.”

Connor rose from his seat and walked towards the break room, straightening his tie for the fourth time this morning. It was simply furnished, a microwave, dishwasher, coffee maker, and fridge placed in half of the room and the other half had a few standing tables and a high-tech television hanging on the wall. A detective who had _Gavin_ stitched into his jacket was standing with an officer with the tag **T. CHEN** stood at one of the tables, the underdressed detective gripping onto an empty cup of coffee. 

“Oh, shit, Tina. Watch out, it’s the dada guard.”

Connor held back an irritated huff. Be amicable, Connor, or else you’ll never be better than your brother. He turned to the detective. “Hello, my name is Connor, I was sent by _DATA_ to assist Lieutenant Anderson with guarding the senator.”

“Oh, I know who you are, you’re the old man’s new little bitch.” Connor could tell that Gavin is compensating for his tiny genitalia with his fake alpha male attitude. He strode up to Connor and let out a dog whistle. “How about you get me some coffee?”

“Why would I? I’m pretty sure you can get it yourself, detective.” 

Connor spotted the punch from a mile away. He grabbed the detective’s hand and twisted it behind his back with one arm. “By the way, you should know that assaulting a federal agent is against the law. You should know this, considering you _are_ a police officer.”

Connor pushed him away and Gavin growled deep in throat and let out a tight “PHCK” before stormung out of the room. Connor turned to Officer Chen and nodded at her and she gave a tight nod back.

Connor quickly made himself coffee. He then poured a second cup for Hank and grabbed a few cream and sugars, remembering not everyone has a taste for black coffee. 

As he strode back to the desk, he saw whom he presumed was the lieutenant settle in. He grinned and sat the coffee and additions on his desk. “Good morning, Lieutenant!” 

Hank looked at Connor, then at the coffee, and then back at Connor. “You have to be shitting me.”

“Anderson! My office!” 

Anderson grumbled, picking up the coffee without the sugars or creams and walked toward the office, already downing it. Connor warily climbed the glass stairs behind him and entered the office with the lieutenant. 

“Ah, you must be Connor Stern.” 

“I am indeed, sir.”

Jeffrey rose to his full height in an attempt to intimidate Connor — it didn’t work. They were the same height, after all. They shook hands, the captain having a hand-crushing shake. He was compensating for something, and Connor plans to find out for what.

“Hank, this is the guy you’ll be guarding Manfred with.”

Hank looked at him with a glare of disbelief. “You’re fuckin’ kidding me, Jeffery.”

“Anderson-”

“I’m not working with some asshole half my age!”

“Hank! I don’t like this arrangement any more than you do! If it were up to me, you wouldn’t even be on this bullshit! But, ever since the death threats, the government’s up my ass! Now shut the hell up and go guard that asshole!”

Hank huffed, storming out and slamming the glass door behind him. Connor held back a flinch. It’s surprising the lieutenant’s force didn’t shatter it. 

Be amicable, Connor. He turned toward the captain, who was already typing on his desktop again.

“It’s a pleasure to be working with your team—”

“Close the door on your way out.” 

Connor was getting very irritated with the disrespect from these officers. He nodded and walked out of the office, walking down the steps and back toward Hank’s desk. 

“Hello lieutenant, I am excited to work with—”

“Don’t care.”

If Connor gets cut off one more time, he’s going to lose it. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to five. He’s only five minutes in and he’s already seeing the difficulty of working with the lieutenant. Maybe he should’ve just let Conan take this one. 

“When are we meeting Senator Manfred today?”

“He’s expecting us at one o’clock.”

“Is there anywhere I may sit while I wait?”

Hank let out an annoyed huff. He gestured vaguely to the desk next to him. “No one’s sitting there.” 

Connor sat across from Hank, trying to find something to connect to Hank about. He saw a baseball magnet, but Connor doesn’t know a damn thing about it. There was a red sticker stuck onto a desk that said **MAKE AMERICA KIND AGAIN** that looked worn down and a few years old. The sticker was a tad too ironic for Connor. Hank’s phone buzzed with a notification, showing off a paused album of Knights of the Black Death. Connor was never into music. He scanned over the man in front of him one last time, desperately searching for something. He spotted dog hair littering Hank’s jacket. He grinned to himself. 

“So, Lieutenant, do you have a dog?”

Hank glared at him. “How the fuck did you know that?”

“The dog hairs on your jacket.” There was an uncomfortable silence before Connor cheerfully said, “I like dogs!” 

Hank huffed. “He’s a saint bernard. His name’s Sumo.”

Connor grinned. One win for Connor. 

Hank rose from his desk, pushing his chair haphazardly into the desk. He threw on his jacket before starting to leave the precinct.

“Lieutenant!” Connor stood from his desk as well. “Lieutenant, where are you going?”

“To eat lunch.”

“I’ll come with you!”

Hank sighed, hanging his head. “Fine. But hurry the fuck up.”

Connor grinned, walking quickly behind him. “So, where are we going, Lieutenant?”

“Okay, first of all, if we’re going to be working together for possibly…” Hank almost gagged, “months, then you’re gonna need to drop this lieutenant shit. Just call me Hank. Second of all, if we’re gonna get along, you’re going to stop asking so many fuckin’ questions.”

“Understood, lieu- Hank,” Connor grabbed his helmet from the lobby’s coat rack. “And I was asking where we were eating so I could meet you there.”

“Just… fuckin’ ride with me. You’ll probably get your skinny ass lost.” 

“Yessir.” 

* * *

The ride to the place to eat was… uncomfortable to say the least. Connor pulled his 1994 quarter from his pocket and started flicking it around in his hands. 

“What are you doing?”

“Coin tricks. They keep my hand-eye coordination sharp.”

Hank glared at him as he stopped the car across of a food shack. “Well stop. It’s fucking annoying.”

Hank climbed out of the car and almost was hit by a car before getting to the other side. Connor quickly followed. 

The Chicken Feed was sketchy to say the least. And that was ignoring Hank’s friend who was pushing him to gamble. Hank grinned up at the cook. 

“Hey, Hank, your usual?”

“You know it, Gary.” 

As the man jotted down his order and glanced over to Connor. “What about you, kid?”

“I-I’ll take the same!” 

Gary raised his eyebrow at Connor. “If you say so.” 

In a minute or two, Gary passed over two boxes and large drinks. Hank grabbed half the order and Connor copied him and followed him over to a standing table out to the side of the truck. He took a sip of his drink, only to be very surprised by the taste of pineapple. The surprise must have showed on his face since Hank snorted. Connor flushed slightly and started eating his burger. 

“So…” Connor started, “do you eat here often?”

Hank grinned. “Almost everyday. Best damn burgers in Detroit.” 

Connor reviewed the options of conversation starters in his head before he spoke again. “These burgers contain 1.4 times the recommended calorie intake and twice the cholesterol level. We really shouldn’t eat these.”

“We all gotta die of something, kid.”

Connor let out a soft hum. “So… what’s up with detective Gavin?”

“Gavin? Gavin Reed? He has a stick up his ass. Why do you ask?”

“He tried to punch me before you arrived at the station.”

“Fuckin’ sounds like the guy.”

“Well… Is there anything you’d like to know about me?”

“Hell, no. Well, yeah… Why’d they send a guy with such a goofy face and weird voice.”

Connor held back a snarky bark. “They sent the guy who was most likely to work harmoniously with both you and Senator Manfred. The other choice was my younger brother and between you and me… he’s a little tough to work with.”

“Well, they fucked up,” Hank deadpanned. His phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the message. “Well, Markus is apparently expecting us now. He left his father’s house early today. Let’s go meet him at the office.”


	3. busy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jericho is here now

Markus was too busy for this. 

His face was smiling, and Connor could tell he was well versed in hiding his exhaustion. Good thing that Connor was even more well versed in finding hidden things. He will be able to read Markus like a book. 

“Senator Manfred, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He had a typical handshake for a politician—firm with his other hand resting on Connor’s. Connor hates these types of handshakes. They make him feel trapped and he can’t stand up straight. “I’m the guard sent by DATA.”

“So, you’re the famed Mr. Stern, huh? Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. I look forward to making you a part of our team.”

The senator was about an inch taller than Connor, but the presence he held made him feel gigantic. Senator Manfred’s eyes had a certain sparkle, despite the exhaustion written underneath his skin. A faint scar ran over his blue eye from just above his eyebrow to his cheekbone. He seemed genuinely kind, but Connor knew the wickedness behind his facade. He just had to remind himself after looking at his attractive features for a second too long. 

Connor never spent much time considering whom he found attractive. He never had time to. In fact, Connor wasn’t introduced to the idea of romantic love until he was twelve when an eleven-year-old Conan snuck a Hallmark movie into their shared room. They watched it, crowding around the small laptop Conan also snuck from their studies. They were both fascinated by it. At the end of the movie, though, the two main love interests kissed, and Connor was at first grossed out. Who wouldn’t be if they’ve never even heard of a kiss before? Connor remembered his brother’s face fall when he told him neither of them would ever have romantic partners; there just wasn’t room for it in their job.

In later years, Connor discovered his affinity for guys over girls. His attraction towards men doesn’t change the fact that he would never have a boyfriend, though.

Still… it won’t hurt if Connor can get some eye candy before the target has to die. 

“The fuck am I? Chopped liver?”

The senator laughed brightly, smiling at Hank like an old friend. “I saw you yesterday, Hank. Now come on, Connor, I’ll introduce you to everyone at the top. Hank, do what you do best.”

Hank saluted to Markus sarcastically as Markus led Connor through the maze of the office. Employees hustled and bustled around, Markus greeting each and everyone. The hallways seemed to branch off into countless individual offices and breakrooms. Finally, he pulled Connor into a room flooded with fluorescent lights. The cubicle lining the floor were divided into six distinct sections. A sign hanging above all of them. Markus was grinning in the corner of his eye.

“This is where the magic happens! Pretty much all that is left to do is to meet the leaders of the departments. North, Simon, and Josh usually stick with me, Luther and Lucy try to stay behind the scenes, and John is always out and about.”

Just as he said that, a short male slammed into Markus’s back, effectively making the senator stumble forward.

“Oh, damn, sorry, Markus!” 

Markus let out a short laugh, turning around and slapping him on the shoulder. “Connor, this is John. He used to be my guard when I was running for congress. He’s now the manager of our field department. He keeps all the voter contact and local campaigns running.” 

The man was slightly shorter than average. His skin was dark, matching his black eyes. Dark coils were hidden by a baseball cap. He radiated an aura of protectiveness, but gentleness. He grinned at Connor as he grasped his hand. 

“Hey, I’m John Night. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Connor Stern. I was sent by DATA to protect Senator Manfred.”

“Oh, thank God, this idiot neds a whole FBI team to protect his self sacrificial ass. Anywho, Markus, I gotta head out for a bit. I’ll be back at three and tell Luther Kara told me to pick up Alice while I’m out.”

Connor shifted uncomfortably as he watched John leave. The idea of going and coming made him uneasy. He was raised on strict schedules and tight borders. Even the thought of roaming on Amanda’s dime made him nauseous. It turns out, as he’s stuck in his head, Markus has been leading him to a separate room at the back of the office. The room held eight desks, all of them occupied except three. 

“Guys,” he announced, “this is Connor. He’s my government issued bodyguard.”

A short blonde popped up from his desk on the left side of the room to shake Connor’s hand. “Hiya! I’m Simon Phillips, I help Markus out with his scheduling.”

“Yes, and one of his biggest talents is being modest. He’s also the manager of the legal team, so he makes sure we’re in complience with the law and he does filing and everything for our dear government.”

“The government is corrupt and you’re full of shit, Manfred.”

“Good to see you to, North. Connor, this is North Warwick, manager of the political department and number one researcher and activist.”

“‘Sup.”

“Luther Williams heads fundraising and financing.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Lucy Bryant keeps our campaign technology in check.”

“Hello.”

“And Josh Anagonye.”

“Hi!” 

The group was a little ragtag and awkwardly sewn together, but Connor could tell they all cared deeply about each other.

He could easily pick out the protector of the group. Though some protectors were pacifists, most were not. North Warwick, for one, was not. She was about 5’9” and held a fiery passion in her brown eyes he hasn’t seen since he saw the RK700 in action. Her auburn hair was braided over her shoulder, resting on the spikes of her leather jacket. 

On the other side of both the spectrum and the room was Josh Anagonye. Not only was he obviously the pacifist of the group, but he was also the straight definition of tall, dark, and handsome. His dark skin stretched to meet amber eyes. His hair was cut close to his head. He was obviously a smart and philosophical, judging by the Kant book dogeared on his desk.

Simon was the cheerleader of the group. His golden blonde hair dipped down past his pale forehead and into his crystal eyes. He ran his hands through it like he has meant to get it cut for weeks. The grin on his face was mischievous, suggesting he had a smart remark on the tip of his tongue. 

Luther was  _ huge,  _ but the kindness in his eyes proved he was a mama bear at heart. The sides of his hair was a buzz cut length, but the top was longer, short curls growing out of his head. He was the darkest out of everyone in the room, and his eyes were charcoal. He intimidated Connor, since his height and strength could easily overpower Connor. 

Lucy was the most interesting of the group. Her skin was decorated with patches of white ( _ vitiligo _ , Connor’s mind supplied). One of her eyes was as black as her pupil, and the other was clouded with gray. She also intimidated Connor, despite her small stature. Her eyes passing over Connor made a chill run down his spine, like she was able to read his thoughts. 

Connor slowly evaluated each person in the room. He decided he should become close with Josh and Simon first, both appearing trusting to a fault and two of the closest to Markus. After they become good friends, he could become even closer to Markus, who seems a little more closed off. Then he would earn North’s friendship and understand more about her psychology. Then he would put a bullet in Markus’s brain and frame North. 

Easy. 

“Hey, Stern, come over here,” North called from across the room. Connor hesitantly followed her order. North grabbed Lucy’s arm, lifting it up. “Give her your hand.”

“North, he doesn’t have to-”

“I’m not letting him stay around you until Lucy evaluates him.”

“Evaluate?” Connor asked softly.

Markus let out a heavy sigh. “Lucy can easily get a good read on people, almost to a supernatural degree. Don’t let North force you to do anything.”

Connor had a sudden urge to grab his coin. Evaluations always made Connor’s stomach knot up, no matter what type. But… getting ‘evaluated’ by Lucy would be an easy way to gain trust in the group. Connor carefully placed his hand in Lucy’s. 

Lucy’s eyes fell shut. Her hands seemed to warm once they were in contact with Connor’s skin. The silence in the room was deafening, like the group was straining to hear Lucy’s thoughts. 

“You’re lost. You hold a lot of resentment in your heart. Success finds you, but you still yearn for validation. Secrets consume your mind, but your soul remains true.” Lucy mumbled. Her eyes slowly opened to stare into Connor’s soul. Connor couldn’t swallow the knot that formed in his throat. Her straight face morphed into a sad smile.

_ Pity,  _ Connor thought,  _ She pities you.  _

He yanked his hand back and held it to his chest. He felt like a wild animal cornered and threatened by humans. Why was his breath so labored?

Lucy’s crazy, she must be.He’s not lost- he never could be. He knows where he is, he knows what he wants, he wants to complete his mission, he wants to make Amanda proud, he wants-

He wants to not have wants. They just get in the way.

“I’m not lost,” he whispered. 

“Alright, that’s enough, get back to work, guys!” Markus ordered. “Are you okay, Connor?”

He cleared his throat. “Just fine.”

As Markus looked into Connor’s eyes with concern, Connor wished Markus was a bit busier. 


	4. social

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> connor and markus bond

Connor isn’t social enough for this.

Connor can be charismatic and outgoing, but the truth is that that isn’t his real personality. And he can’t let his extrovert-facade fall for a second or else Markus would become uncomfortable and never trust him.

Connor missed his alone time. He just wants to curl up in his bed and read a shitty romance novel Conon gifted him, despite Connor’s complaining. With him being on this assignment, the only alone time was while showering and sleeping. And even then, he was still in Markus’s house!

A sharp jingle rang through Markus’s guest room. He slapped his phone, turning it off. He dragged himself from the memory foam and started his morning routine. 

_ 500: Work out; stretch, sit ups, push ups, planks, pull ups, jog around the block, yoga _

_ 600: Shower _

_ 630: Send mission update to Amanda and Conan _

_ 645: Check emails and news, send all from Conan to the junk folder _

_ 700: Finish freshening up by brushing teeth, fixing hair, and dressing for the day _

_ 715: Check if Markus is awake. If not, wake him _

Connor has only been there for a week and a half and he despised how easily he fell into a new routine with Markus. He fiddled with his tie one last time before knocking on Markus’s door. 

“Senator? Are you up?”

“Give me a second! Almost dressed!” 

On his first day, Connor was forced to go to dinner with Markus and the leaders of his campaign. During their entre, he accidentally let slip that he was staying at a hotel for the duration of his stay. Markus, being the overly kind man he is, insisted he stay in his house. Connor protested when Markus shot back ‘you could guard me better if we were in the same house.’ Connor said he’d run it by his supervisor, hoping Amanda would shoot the plan down, but Amanda loved it because Connor would be closer to the senator. Connor can’t complain too much, Markus makes a mean breakfast.

It’s really going to suck when he has to kill him.

The door swept open to reveal Markus still buttoning a gray dress shirt. His megawatt smile widened as he saw his protector. “Morning, Connor.”

“Up early, aren’t we, Senator?”

Markus Barked out a laugh. “Never as early as you. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Markus?”

Connor placed a hand over his heart in feigned shock. “I would never be so disrespectful to our future president.”

Markus shook his head. “Well, Mr. Stern, fancy a walk this morning? I know a wonderful restaurant five minutes away.”

Connor desperately doesn’t want to. Markus is trusting and gullible, so tricking him into his fake personality isn’t hard, but around other people, Connor has to work twice as hard. He never knows when an extremely observant person would come around and destroy the trust they had built. Extrovert Connor keeps Markus happy, so he let a firm “I would love to” slip past his lips. 

And Markus looked disappointed. Markus wouldn’t be angry if he was Conan. Conan was the extrovert of the  three  two of them. That’s another reason why Conan is better than him. He’s stronger, faster, taller, more charismatic than-

Connor forced himself to shut down the train of thought. 

Connor and Markus walked side by side through the house and down the streets of Detroit. The crisp October air nipped at Connor’s pale face. Despite the chill, the area of Detroit was gorgeous in an unconventional way. Colorful graffiti lined the walls of the city streets. Connor found himself drawn to a certain piece spray painted on the side of an abandoned business.

It had a navy blue background with a gray silhouette of a man, down on one knee, head bowed. His hands were shackled to the ground, but the artist made sure the viewer could see the tiny cracks forming in the links. The most interesting part of the piece, though, was the light blue ring glowing on the man’s temple. It was almost like…

Connor pulled his hand from his collarbone. 

“I see The Prisoner has caught your eye.” Markus walked up next to Connor to gaze at the artwork with him. “Always been one of my favorites, too.” 

Connor doesn’t know anything about art, even less about how people can find some pieces favorable to others. He knows Markus was an artist, so should he ask?

“Why?” Connor strained out. “Do you like it, I mean.”

Markus made a face like he bit into a lemon. “I- uh, it just reminds me of all I’ve accomplished since I was hurt. What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, I don’t really have an eye for art-”

He was cut off by Markus’s soft chuckle. “That may be true, but you can still enjoy something.”

“Oh, well, I-” Connor looked back up at the painting, uneasiness rolling over in his stomach. “I’m not sure.”

“And that’s okay too,” Markus smiled at him. “C’mon, Rose’s is just around the corner.”

Chapman’s Diner smelled heavily of butter and pancakes. The bar was a clean pastel yellow with a young man typing at a cash register. The booths were decorated with live orchids. The decor favored pastels like yellow, pink, blue, and lilac. Markus slid into a booth next to the large storefront window, and Connor took the seat across from him. The young man at the counter perked up before grabbing two menus and walking toward Connor and Markus. 

“Hey, and welcome to Chapman’s Diner. My name’s Adam and I’ll be your server today. And, let me guess, Markus, a hot chocolate with an espresso shot?” the teen, Adam, rambled off. Markus let out a hearty laugh. 

“I come here too often, don’t I?”

“I mean, you haven’t been in a week. Mom was getting worried, thought you were kidnapped for a second there.” 

“Sorry for the troubles, but I was making my new guest feel comfortable for his stay,” Markus said, gesturing to Connor. “Connor, this is Adam Chapman. Adam, Connor Stern.”

“Hi, I am the bodyguard sent by DATA to protect Senator Manfred.”

Adam snorted. “He hates being called senator, you know.”

“Yes, he does know. At this point, I think he’s trying to annoy me.”

“Good. You could use getting annoyed more. Anyways, sir, what would you like?”

“Coffee. Black, please.”

“Coming right up. And I’ll go get Mom for you.”

“Thanks, Adam. Keep it up and I may give you a tip.”

“You better give me a tip, old man!” Adam shouted as he walked into the back of the diner.

“I guess you two are well acquainted?” Connor asked, raising his eyebrow.

“Yeah. Rose, Adam’s mother, was my foster mom for a bit before my dad adopted me.”

“You were adopted?”

“Mhm. My bio mom was insane, so I ran when I was five. Caught the first bus that went the furthest from Maryland I could find, and I ended up in Detroit. I was on the street for a week before Rose found me and three months later my dad adopted me.”

“Smart five year old.”

“Guess so.”

“Markus Manfred, I haven’t seen you in awhile!” A middle aged woman stepped out from the kitchen, wiping flour onto her apron before picking up their drinks from the coffee machine. Her eyes were filled with kindness as she looked at Connor. She set the drinks in front of them and hugged Markus. “Who’s your friend?”

“Rose, this is Connor Stern, he’s my new government issued guard.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Chapman.”

“Please, call me Rose.”

“Okay then, Rose.”

“Yet he won’t call me Markus.”’

Rose smacked Markus on the arm softly. “Be nice to your guest. What would you two gentlemen like to eat?” 

“Connor wants some waffles and bacon and I want your french toast and an omlette. Thank you, Rose.”

Rose scoffed. “Are you okay with that, Connor?”

“Uhm, yes ma’am.”

Markus plucked the menu from Connor’s hand and handed both of them to Rose. “If you think I make good pancakes, then wait until you try Rose’s world famous waffles.” 

“Coming right up,” Rose smiled and walked back to the kitchen.

“So, Senator,” Connor started, “do you think there’s anything else I need to know about you?”

“Well, Mr. Stern, I was thinking I need to know more about  _ you _ , actually.” Markus smirked into his hot chocolate. “How about a game of 20 questions?” 

“Alright, Senator, ask away.”

“Any siblings?”

Connor’s breath hitched in his throat. Should he bring up his twin brother? Co-  _ RK700  _ has been long dead. He and Conan had been ordered to forget about him. 

“Yes. I have a younger brother named Conan. He was the other choice for your guard when our boss was assigning the case. Spitting image of me, really, other than he’s taller and has blue eyes.”

“Oh, so you work together?”

“Sorry, I believe it’s my turn to ask a question?”

“Fine.”

“Do  _ you  _ have any siblings?”

“Oh, I see, stealing my questions!” Markus jokingly exclaimed. “But, yes, I have a brother named Leo. Haven’t spoken to him in a few years, though. Can you answer if you and your brother work together now?”

“Yes, me and my brother are coworkers. If one of us aren’t on a current assignment, we are supervisor’s of the other’s mission. We check on each other often, too, so you should meet him sooner or later. Be warned, though, he has no filter.”

“Ah, so he and North would get along?”

“No, I think they’re both too strong headed with different opinions to be friends.”

“Damn, thought I could finally find her a date.”

“Oh, then Simon’s more of his type.”

“Blonde, blue eyes?”

“And male.”

“Oh.” 

An awkward silence enveloped the two men as they both took a sip from their drinks. 

“So, why do you and your brother no longer talk?”

Markus sputtered and coughed, clearly not expecting the blunt question. “Well, he’s been in and out of rehab since 2017. He started on red ice when we were teens to prove a point to our dad. Always believed that Dad replaced him when he took me in.”

Connor unconsciously went to reach for Markus’s hand before pulling it back to his lap. Markus just looked… so sad.  _ He cares about his family a lot  _ Connor noted in his mind. 

“Let’s get off that depressing subject, huh?” Markus grinned uncomfortably. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Fine, TV show?”

“I haven’t watched much TV either.”

“What? Then what do you do in your free time?”

Connor reads shitty romance novels in his free time, but there’s no way in hell he’s admitting that aloud, let alone in public, so instead he said, “I don’t have much free time. I keep myself busy with work, sleep, and exercise.”

“That can’t be healthy.”

“Connor, everyone needs a chance to slow down and relax to be physically, and more importantly,  _ mentally  _ healthy.”

“I sleep. That’s relaxing.”

“That’s not what I meant. You know what? We should start having movie nights with the team. It’ll be fun.”

That sounds like hell to Connor.

“Okay, but onto the next question. How did you meet the team?”

“I met almost everyone before my teen years ended, but I met Luther first in foster care before Rose fully adopted him. Then he introduced me to my VP Kara, whom you haven’t met yet, and now they’re married with a kid. I met North in high school when she punched me in the face and broke my nose. Josh apologized for her and invited me into their friend group where I met Simon. I met Lucy at a march when I was eighteen and John when he was my bodyguard.”

Connor took a second to process and store the information away for later. Relationships should always be learned when it comes to a mission like this. He decided that North would be easy to place the blame on due to her past violence towards Markus.

“Okay, my turn,” Markus said. He fiddled with his mug. “Why are you so closed off to all of us?”

Connor’s brain froze. He… he wasn’t closed off! He was polite and communicative and he was acting like a normal person and real friends and- 

“Don’t get me wrong, Connor, you’re really nice, but… I can tell this isn’t the real you.”

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Most people don’t like the real me, Markus.”

He smiled sadly at Connor. “I’m not like most people.”

They were interrupted when Rose brought out platters of food for the two men. As they ate, silence consumed their past conversation.

Connor hopes he doesn’t become too social because of him.


	5. tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: connor and markus bond over breakfast
> 
> currently: connor chases and gets fussed at

Connor is too tired for this. 

Despite it only being 10:30 pm, and Connor being able to run like a well oiled machine on just coffee and an hour of sleep, Connor could feel his eyelids slipping over his pupils.The only thing keeping Connor awake at this point was the sound of Markus and Hank’s frantic argument. 

At 9:14 pm, a man tried to break into Markus’s one story house by climbing through Connor’s bedroom window. Both the senator and Connor were already to bed, but being a light sleeper, Connor woke up when he heard the lock on the window click loudly. Connor stayed still, but when the intruder’s feet hit the carpet, Connor snatched the gun he kept under his pillow and rocketed out of the bed. He was barely able to catch a good look at his before he scrambled back out of the window. Unluckily for the crook, he dropped his gun on the way out. 

After Connor called the police, he woke Markus then, by Markus’s request, called Hank as well. Now, Markus and Hank are having a “heated discussion” about Markus’s safety that Connor has only been half awake to hear. He’s too busy wishing he had coffee and trying to block out the way too many cops on their front step. 

“Connor!” the lieutenant snaped. He threw him a flashlight. “Come with me to look around. And Markus, I swear to God if you follow us…”

“Okay, Hank, I get it,” Markus huffed, plopping down on his front step. “Just… be careful. Both of you.”

Markus’s house was only a two minute walk from the city, so, of course, the perp would be next to impossible to find. As much as he wanted to get out of the cold and just go back to sleep, he didn’t voice his concerns since he knew he wouldn’t deter Hank. And for the love of God, that man needs to have someone watching his six.

“Are you armed, Connor? This asshole may have dropped a gun, but he might be carrying a spare.”

“I grabbed my holster on the way out. But why would the perpetrator be carrying a second weapon?”

“He tried to climb into a presidential candidate's window. Who knows what that kind of nut job would do?”

“That makes no logical se-”

“Hey, watch it!” Hank snapped, throwing an arm out from Connor to bar him from walking. “Looks like he got sloppy covering his tracks.”

Size eight boot prints were stomped into the snow coming from the backyard of the last house of the suburb stood. Connor felt the snowflakes slip down the back of his neck. He huffed and pulled up the collar. 

“We better move quick. The snow will cover them itself if we don’t get going.”

Connor walked behind Hank, holding his flashlight down to the tracks while Hank kpt his light pointing ahead. The prints wove around two corners before suddenly ending. Hank shone the light down the alleyway next to the end. Connor let out a soft “hmph.”

“Shit. Looks like we lost him.”

Connor glanced at the alleyway, then the dumpster, then the fire escape bolted to the building. “Maybe not.”

Connor hefted himself up onto the lid of the dumpster, and Connor’s suspicions we correct. A boot print was left on the lid. He turned back to Hank. “Meet me on the roof, Lieutenant, if someone is up there, we need to corner him.”

“Alright, I guess. But I won’t take anymore orders from a twelve year old.”

“Sir, I’m thirty-three.”

“Ah, shaddup.”

Connor lifted himself onto the fire escape, flying over the steps. As he began to reach the top, the fire escape began shaking. He looked up, and saw the man fleeing up the stairs. Connor smirked and jumped to the outside of the structure to climb it easily, the ice barely even getting in the way. He raised himself onto the roof just to see the perp jumping down to the next building. Connor took off sprinting after him. 

The next rooftop held an inner city farm. Connor honestly felt bad for trampling the wheat. He was still a good twenty feet behind the perp. The perp jumped from a crate to the top of the next brick wall, where another wheat field laid, and Connor swiftly followed his actions. The man ran across active train tracks, just before the train arrived at where he was. Connor used two crates and the actively moving train to launch himself to where the next building stood. 

The next rooftop had a greenhouse filled with late night employees, and that’s straight where the perp ran. Connor rushed after him, leaping over a crate that got in his way. He watched as the perp leapt off the building, making his breathing hitch. His calmness came back to him as the glass ramp came into view. He slid down the slanted windows before jumping across a gap into the window the perp broke. 

The next room was a dim warehouse feel with more plants growing in glass cases. The perp was only fifteen feet ahead. A garage like door started closing and the perp slid under it. Connor sped up the few stairs before the platform that held the door, but the door was closed. He glanced out the window to see the perp running across a lit catwalk-like pathway. He rushed out the open gate to his right. 

Now trampling lilac rows, Connor ran a quick calculation in his head. To the left was the catwalk, direct but slow. Down the middle was a fast but risky parkour, and to the right was a safer detour with a ladder. He went down the middle, bouncing from a piece of machinery onto the next, higher platform. 

The perp, of course, had to jump off another building to a glass ramp of windows, and, of course, Connor had to follow. He had to dodge right and left to avoid open windows before jumping on a moving monorail. The perp jumped onto another ladder that led to a brick building. Connor jumped as well, hands slipping slightly because of the ice and swore. He saw Hank reach the top of a nearby building. Connor smirked, predicting where the criminal would go.

He ran through an icy orchard and across another gap before they reached another greenhouse. He had to run another calculation. Through the greenhouse would be direct but crowded, but there was a safe and slow, but since when did he care about his own safety? He had to hop over a few elevated rows of cabbages and lettuce, but the perp was only ten feet away. 

He ran through a cornfield before he came across Hank getting close to the perp. He let a smile break out. They got him. 

At least until the perp pushed him off the roof. 

The perp was going to the left, but Hank was hanging off the roof. His arm was slung around the ledge, and his chance of survival was 80% but…

_He watched his own face run pale as blood spilled from his forehead. He could hear Conan scream, but everything was mu-_

“Hank!” he yelled, grabbing his arm to help pull him up. Hank fell onto the roof, swearing wildly. 

“God dammit, we had it! Fuck…” Hank climbed to his feet, resting his hands on his knees.

“It’s my fault,” Connor muttered. “I should’ve been faster.”

“Connor, you woulda caught him if it wasn’t for me…” he breathed. “We’ll just have to watch over Markus a bit more since there’s a lunatic on the loose. Let’s go get the fuckin’ report done.”

Hank turned to the door to leave, but Connor’s eyes were stuck on the place that the perp leapt off to escape. 

“Oh, and Connor,” Hank called, making him turn to the lieutenant. “Thanks, kid.”

He smiled softly. “Not a problem, Lieutenant.”

* * *

“You _what?!_ ”

Connor was at the station until two am filling out reports with Hank and that asshole Gavin Reed. He ended up passing out at the desk across from Hank’s until he returned to Markus’s house at eight. When Hank forced Connor to tell the whole story of Connor doing reckless things instead of Connor’s much more practical, few cool parkour moves, Markus snapped. 

“I may have jumped off a building.”

“Oh my _God,_ Connor, you can’t just put yourself in danger like that!”

“I wasn’t in danger, I knew what I was doing, Senator.”

“Well, obviously not, considering you jumped off a damn _building._ ” Markus’s hand found its way to Connor’s cheek. He caressed Connor with gentleness he has never experienced before. He had to physically keep himself from leaning into the senator’s touch. 

He grabbed the hand that was resting on his cheek. “I’m fine, Markus.”

Markus’s eyes flickered down before they landed on Connor’s again. His hand dropped, Connor’s hand accidentally following it. Their fingers were touching for a second too long before Connor pulled away as if he was burned. 

“Fine. Just be safer, alright?” After Markus didn’t get a response, he let out a huff. “Just go get ready. We need to go shopping today.”

Connor felt a weird tug at his heart when Markus gave him a disappointed glare, and it still lingered when he left. He went to wash off the grime from the station and hopefully Markus’s disappointment. 

Once he finished cleaning up, he walked back to the living room to see Hank and Markus still talking about his recklessness. 

“Still talking about how I am apparently not qualified for my own job?”

Hank sighed heavily. “Kid, we know you’re qualified, but what you did last night could’ve gotten you killed.”

“Says the man who was pushed off the roof,” Connor snapped back, crossing his arms.

“Listen up, you little shit-”

“You got pushed off the _roof_?” Markus yelled.

“Either way!” Connor yelled over Markus’s voice. “I didn’t catch him so I obviously didn’t do enough.”

“You know what? We’ll all talk about this later. Hank, go back to the office, Connor and I have to go shopping for tuxedos.”

“Wait, what? Why do I have to get a tux?”

“You’re my date to the Annual Detroit Gala.”

“You sure that’s going to go well for your campaign?”

“I outed myself on the senate floor. I’m sure the press will handle me going to the gala with a straight guy. Now, come on.”

The drive to the shop was crushingly quiet. Markus kept his eyes on the road while Connor stared out the window. He felt the need to say something, and of course the first thing he said was, “I’m not straight.”

Markus let out a strained cough. “What?”

“I’m not straight. I’m gay. So you may need to rethink the press’s idea of us two on the dance floor.”

Markus chuckled. “Oh, God, you might have to be America’s first first man.” 

Connor had to let out a little laugh. “I know I’m handsome, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Connor could feel Markus roll his eyes as he pulled into the parking lot. “Don’t plan on it, Stern.”

The two men walked into the store side by side. “So, Mr. Stern, what do you prefer? Bow ties, neckties, pure black, color?”

“I don’t care, Senator, as long as we match for the cameras.”

“Well, then, I prefer colors. Preferably multiple. And what if we matched my tux to you tie and vice versa?”

“Sounds good, Manfred.”

Markus gasped dramatically. “Wow, one step closer to calling me my name!”

“Oh, sorry, Senator.”

“And we’re back,” Markus winked at him. “Look around for something you like.”

Connor walked around the area with the suits, running his fingers over different coats, cringing away from random textures. He didn’t know what types of suits he liked. He was always just given one and he dealt with it, even with the ones that made him uncomfortable to no end. If he had a choice this time, he was going to find one that made him happy. 

His fingers found a[ maroon silk suit ](https://perfecttux.com/promo/cache/m288sk-2-main-400x400.jpg) , lined with black on the inside. He picked it up from the rack and found a matching [ maroon necktie ](https://perfecttux.com/image/cache/catalog/Neckties/Boys_Neckties/boys_necktie_burgundy-1024x1024.jpg) for Markus.

Markus walked up to him, wearing his own [ suit ](http://picture-cdn.wheretoget.it/pibd75-l-610x610-jacket-floral-tuxedo-tux-formal-love-prom-blazer-wherecanifindthisjacket-mens+jacket-mens+blazer-prom+menswear-floral+jacket.jpg) to show Connor. It was blue with different flowers wrapped around the shoulders. He saw a [ bow tie ](https://www.dhresource.com/0x0/f2/albu/g6/M01/12/37/rBVaSFpt0eaAVQAJAAKvgXr99i0089.jpg) hanging from his hands. Connor could feel the breath leave his lungs. 

“How do I look?”

“Very handsome, Senator.”

“Here, let’s see if this tie fits you.”

As Markus pulled the tie tight around his neck, Connor felt a little too awake. 


	6. excited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: connor saves hank's life and goes shopping with markus
> 
> now: connor and markus are gay. hank is drunk.

Connor was not excited for this. 

His arms felt restricted by the elbows. The ends of his pants fell a bit short of his ankles, and his shoes were too loose. The bow tie around his neck was so much to tight compared to his normal necktie. He kept fidgeting with all of his clothes. This outfit was just too impractical if he was threatened. 

Markus, on the other hand, was too attractive for his own good. His dress shirt is a little too tight around his pecs, only covered by the maroon tie around his neck. His outfit only got better when he showed off his bright smile. When he did, he could feel his heart skip a beat… he should get that checked out. 

Markus’s eyes ran up and down Connor’s suit before meeting his eyes and grinning. “Josh is going to pick us up in just a minute. You ready to tear up the dance floor, date?”

“Of course, Senator.” 

A car horn honked from outside the house. Markus extended his elbow for Connor to take. Connor rolled his eyes, but looped his arm through Markus’s anyways.

Josh’s car wasn’t exactly the biggest, but it still had just enough seats to fit Markus and his main partners. Markus and Connor squeezed into the back seat next to Simon (whom was wearing a nice navy suit and a pastel undershirt), Connor in the middle seat. North sat in the passenger seat in a champagne colored dress with a puffy skirt ending above her knees. Josh was driving, wearing a stereotypical black tuxedo with a bow tie. 

“North, you could very easily hide knives in that dress.”

Connor could see her light up in the rear view mirror. “Really? How? How many?”

“Well—” Markus’s hand was suddenly covering Connor’s mouth. 

“We don’t need to know that.”

“I disagree,” North smirked. 

Josh sighed. “Connor, for the love of God, please don’t make North anymore dangerous.”

“I don’t see what the problem is. I have at least three knives hidden on me at all times.”

“ _ What? _ ” Markus snapped. 

Connor couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Only kidding, Senator.”

North scoffed. “Just when I started to like you.

Markus elbowed him. “Brat.”

“Wow, Senator, never took you for such a juvenile fighting sense.”

“Haha, Stern.”

“Okay, cut it out, lovebirds, we’re here.”

Connor took a peek out the window. The entrance was a small path, both sides crowded by the press and paparazzi, the latter more likely there for the celebrities to be attending. Large crowds make him fidgety. Connor felt his hand tremble slightly. 

Markus’s hand covered Connor’s. “C’mon, tough guy, you aren’t scared of some reporters.”

“I’m not scared. It’s just that crowded places have an increased chance of having threats hidden.”

“C’mon, Con,” North grinned from the front seat. “Marky-Mark can’t get hurt with his big bad bodyguard around.”   


She jumped out of the car, Josh following her. Markus turned and smiled at him. “Come on. Let’s make some homophobes mad.”

“Markus, for the love of God, we don’t need more controversy.”

“Si, I’m a gay man running for president, controversy is my middle name.” Markus slid out of the car, followed by Connor and Simon. 

As soon as they stepped onto the main entrance walk, Markus started waving at the photographers. Reporters were shouting various questions at him. Despite Connor’s protests, he continued to stop to answer those questions and pose for photos (most including Connor and Simon). Connor’s hand slipped into his pocket and fiddled with his coin. 

“Senator, please stop stopping for every little thing. The longer we’re out here, the higher the risk of you getting attacked.”

Markus brushed their hands together. “Stop worrying, Stern. We’ll be fine.”

After another agonizing five minutes of walking, stopping, walking again, stopping for more pictures, and even less walking, he, Markus, and Simon all arrived at the main entrance of the gala. Just as they reached the large doors, a harsh voice came from behind their backs. 

“FUCK YOU, MANFRED!” a man screamed. Connor whipped around to see the man pressed close against the barrier. The man spat. “YOU’LL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’RE DOING TO AMERICA.”

Connor felt a weird flare of anger burn in his chest. His fists balled up and he was about to turn to talk to him. Simon grabbed his shoulder to stop him.

“Ignore him, Connor. It’s just another racist homophobe.”

Connor unclenched his jaw (when did that happen?). “Where the hell is security?”

Markus smiled sadly. “Come on. Let’s not let that asshole ruin our night, guys.”

The building the gala was held in was lavishly decorated in golds and silvers. The food was on a long table on the westward wall, tables to sit and eat at spotted around the same area. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, setting the room aglow with warm light. Heels clacked against the pristine white floor and the sounds echoed off the walls, or at least it would if there wasn’t so much noise crowding in the room. A few photographers were scattered about, obviously paid to be there. 

Connor took the chance to observe the people milling about. Most of the room was taken up by high collar socialites, some prancing around the dance floor, some eating at the tables, some showing people how drunk they can get. Servers walked around in black outfits, meaning to blend in, but really they just stood out against the shiny decor. Most were around college age and carrying around large trays of champagne. 

Connor couldn’t help but to assess the most dangerous areas of the room. The dance floor had the greatest risk, any person could come up and slit another’s throat. Due to the crowdedness, the body could not be discovered for a few hours. The food was open to the air, easily posionable. Connor decided against eating tonight (he most likely wasn't going to anyway, due to his uneasy stomach).

Connor’s hands started flipping his quarter back and forth without him noticing. He forced himself to stop and pocket his coin again. He adjusted his tie. 

Markus and Simon were now a few feet away, talking animatedly to Luther and a woman hanging on his arm. She had a pixie cut, dyed white with brown roots peeking out. She wore an elegant, off-the-shoulder mint dress with silver heels. Even from his distance, he could see the maternal shine in the woman’s eyes. He checked over himself one more time before walking over. 

“Connor!” Luther cheered, clapping him on the shoulder as he approached. “It’s nice to see you again. This is my wife, Kara.”

A twinge of recognition flared up when he and Kara made eye contact. The light in Kara’s eyes dimmed slightly. She recognized him too. Despite all of this, she held out her hand to shake. He took it. 

“Kara Williams.”

“Connor Stern. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“This is my VP, aka the most integral part of our team,” Markus commented, resting a soothing hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Well, her and her daughter.”

“You flatter me, Markus.”

_ Alice Williams.  _ Connor rolled the name over in his mind. He knew that name. Just… from where?

“Well, Kara and I are going to dance. Would anyone care to join?” 

“I should go find Josh and North,” Simon said, sharing a sympathetic smile. “Need to make sure they haven’t set anything on fire. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

As Simon went to seek out his friends, Markus extended an arm to Connor. “Shall we dance?”

Connor really didn’t want to. Too many bad things could happen. It made his hands shake. He wrapped his arm around Markus’s and was led to the dance floor. 

A band originally hidden by the attendees was playing classical music. Markus helped Connor into the dancing position. 

“Just a warning, Senator,” he said, fixing his stance, “I don’t know how to dance.”

Markus grinned. “I don’t either.”

For someone who claimed he can’t dance, Markus seems good at a box step. He took the lead in the dance and laughed when Connor tripped over his own feet. He felt his face get red from embarrassment, making Markus laugh harder. 

“Connor, this dance switches partners soon.”

“What?” 

Before Markus could reply, Connor was spun off to another person and was replaced by a young woman. Connor’s new dance partner was a woman he recognized as a Detroit councilwoman. Despite his best efforts, Connor ended up failing to lead the dance. The councilwoman was slowly becoming more and more aggravated. Connor looked around the crowd for someone he knew, but even Markus was lost to the crowd. He pulled away from his dance partner, swallowing roughly. 

“Sorry, ma’am, I have to go find someone.”

Connor turned before she could answer to start and push through the crowd. His hands were shaking hard. There were too many people, so many people crowding around him. His throat started to close up  **_Conan was pressed against his side as his older broth_ ** He kept pushing through, apologizing to random strangers  **_the face was pale and finally at pea_ ** He couldn;t breathe, why could he brea  **_red so much red_ **

“Connor?”

Connor was brought back to the present by Markus’s different colored eyes. His eyes were filled with worry. It took him a second to realize his face was being held by Markus’s hands. “Are you alright?”

He swallowed hard. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before pulling Markus’s hands from his face. “I’m fine.”

Markus looked like he wanted to say something, but instead looked around for a second. “Hey, Hank was supposed to come tonight, but he never showed. Can you go to his house and check on him for me?”

“What if something happens to you-”

“We’ll be fine. This place is covered in security. Could you please just do me this favor?”

“Okay.”

“There’s a door in the back you can sneak out of. Just text me to let me know he’s okay.”

* * *

Connor checked the address Markus gave him one last time before stepping out of the Uber. Hank Anderson lived in a small house on the very outskirts of Detroit. The tiles of the roof were sliding down and the paint on the boards was peeling off. As Connor walked up the steps, the rotten wood groaned underneath his weight. All in all, the house was in desperate need of repair.

He rung the doorbell, it returning the favor with an annoyed buzz. No response. He knocked. No response. He knocked harder. Yet again, no response. 

Hank was home, judging by the beat up car parked in the driveway, but wasn’t replying for for whatever reason. There could be something wrong. Connor took a second to keep panic from clouding his mind (even though he wasn’t scared) and climbed back down the stairs. 

Hank’s car was empty, so Connor walked around to the side of the house. The bushes lining the exterior were overgrown, almost covering the windows. A tall, wooden fence obscured Connor’s view of the backyard. He considered climbing it until he realized he could just peek through the window first.

Connor had a short fight with Hank’s landscaping before he was able to see through the dirty glass. Hank was lying on his kitchen floor. Unconscious. Unmoving. Fear working over judgement, he took his elbow to the window one, two, three times before it shattered inward. He pulled off his tie before shoving it in his pocket. He tugged off his jacket and laid it on top of the jagged glass lining the bottom of the window sill. He took a few steps back before leaping through the window, landing in some of the shattered glass. He swore as a piece sliced his hand. He looked back up to see a big Saint Bernard barking in his face.

“Hey… Sumo,” he mumbled, putting up his hands. “See, I know your name, I’m a friend!” 

The dog licked his cheek before turning around and flopping down on the kitchen tiles. Connor took the chance to stand up and look over Hank’s condition. He pressed two fingers against his jugular. Pulse is normal. He hovered his hand around his mouth. Breathing also normal. In Hank’s right hand was a bottle of whiskey, almost completely gone and some spilled on the floor. The other hand had a revolver laying a few inches away. Breath caught in Connor’s throat as he grabbed it and checked the ammunition. One round was loaded. 

Connor settled on ethylic coma as his ailment. He could wake him. Easily, right?

So, Connor slapped him. “Lieutenant?”

Hank mumbled. Connor slapped him harder. “Lieutenant! It’s me, Connor!”

“Connor?” the older man slurred. “The fuck are you doing here?” 

He grabbed his arm, pulling it over his shoulder. “I’m going to sober you up for your own good!”

“Leave me the fuck alone! Sumo, attack!”

“Sorry, Lieutenant, but I was sent to check on you!”

“Get the fuck out!”

Connor stumbled to the bathroom, Hank doing his best to keep him from doing his main goal. Once he got outside the door, he leaned Hank against the wall and opened it. Hank groaned. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna be sick!” 

“You’re almost at the toilet, Lieutenant!” He grabbed him from under his armpit and threw him into the bathtub. 

Hank groaned. “I don’t want a bath, thank you.”

He tried to stand, but Connor just pushed him back down and turned on the showerhead. He only took a little pleasure in Hank’s annoyed yelling. He shut the water back off. Hank took a few seconds to recollect himself, staring at Connor. Hank’s nose wrinkled. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“You never showed up to the gala. I was sent by Markus to check on you.”

“Shit, that was to-to-” 

Hank keeled over and vomited in the toilet. Connor immediately looked around for the medicine. It didn’t seem to be in the bathroom. He patted Hank’s back. “I’m going to go get you some medicine and water.”

“It’s in the kitchen.”

As Connor left, Hank vomited again. He ended up rummaging through the kitchen cabniets and drawers, placing the gun and liquor back into their respectful places. 

“What were you doing with a gun with one bullet?” Connor yelled. 

He heard Hank chuckle. “Ever heard of Russian roulette, kid?”

Connor’s stomach rolled. He across a drawer with a bottle of ibuprofen and a face down picture. He knew he shouldn’t look, but he did anyways. He turned it over. The picture was of a young boy, blonde hair and blue eyes that matched Hank’s. He heard Hank stumble down the hall.

“Lieutenant,” he said quietly, “who is this.”   


“Fuck,” the older man mumbled. “I’m gonna need some more to drink for this. Wanna go to a bar?”

Connor was excited for the first time in a while. 


	7. drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: connor panics at the gala and checks up on hank
> 
> now: connor is way too drunk

Connor is way too drunk.

Turns out, not drinking alcohol for five years turns you into a hell of a lightweight. And Connor has just downed three shots.

He now nursed a bottle of beer, letting the bottle swing between his fingers. Hank was sat next to him, sipping on an almost empty glass of whiskey. For the last ten minutes, the two men sat in silence, Hank focused on the hockey game playing and Connor focused on his own drink. The rest of the bar was empty, other than the bartender cleaning glasses and minding his own business.

The last time Connor checked, he’d been a giggly drunk. Also clingy. He thinks there was something to do with food, but he’d forgotten most of his 27th birthday. Either way, his mood was subdued, as if a weighted blanket was laid over him. In the corner of his eye, Hank’s leg is bouncing up and down against his barstool. He felt the heavy atmosphere too.

“What’s up with you and Markus?” Hank asked nonchalauntly.

He coughed on his drink. There was nothing going on with him and Markus! Connor was just his bodyguard! No, no he was his assassin! Sure he was his date to the gala, but that was to make Markus trust him. He’s not going to get connected, he won’t, he can’t. His free hand gripped the wooden counter. His face was bright red.

“Hey, hey, calm down, Jesus,” Hank said, grabbing Connor’s shoulder. His breath was finally able to come back to his lungs. “You two just seem close. And your face is red as a fuckin’ firetruck.”

“I- we’re just friends! Uh, I mean coworkers. I guard him.” Connor cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Hank snorted. “Alright, kid.”

Connor’s face got hotter. “What about you? Do you- do you have a wife?”

“Oh, we divorced a few years ago.”

Good job, Connor. You messed it up.

“Jimmy,” Hank called, setting down his now empty glass, “another round.”

“Shit, Hank, you sure? You two had a lot and the kid looks like he’s gonna fall over.”

Oh. Connor was swaying, wasn’t he?

“I’m paying you, ain’t I?”

The bartender sighed and filled Hank’s glass again.

“So,” Hank started, sipping his drink, “why were you at my house?”

It took Connor a few seconds to process the question. “Oh! When you didn’t show up to the gal- the ga- dance, Markus got worried. Sent me to check on you.”

“And you had to break my window?”

Connor sputtered on his drink. “I thought you were dead!”

“Well, I wasn’t, alright?”

Anger swelled in his chest. “You almost were! One more round woulda killed you! Why would you do that?”

“None of your fuckin’ buisness, alright!” Hank roared.

Connor flinched back, almost as if he’d been burnt. He tore his gaze from the lieutenant. He swirled the bottle hanging from his fingers, watching the amber liquid spin. Just when they started to get along. Conan wouldn’t have messed this up. He’d already be best friends with all of them. Conan would be a screw u-

The sound of a glass slamming on the counter broke him out of his spiral.

“He passed a few years ago,” he muttered. “Uh- my son, I mean. It’s the anniversary of his death.”

Connor’s stomach tightened. He felt like he was about to throw up.

“The roads were icy. A drunk driver slammed into us. The surgeon was high during the surgery. During the operation that coulda saved my baby boy.” Hank was glaring at his hands, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“I-” Connor blurted out. “My brother’s anniversary is coming up in December. I watched him get shot and it was my fault. It’s- it’s almost been 24 years and it’s never hurt any less.”

Hank was now looking at him. Connor was staring at the counter, but he could feel Hank’s eyes.

“I’m not trying to say our experiences are equal. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose a child but… if you need someone to talk to, I’m here, I guess.”

Hank didn’t speak for a second. “Shit, kid.”

A church tower rang in the distance. Connor counted twelve chimes.

“It’s officially midnight, Lieutenant. Hopes to better days.”

“And less death.”

Connor’s stomach dropped. “Hopefully.”

  
—

“Thank you, mister uber guy!”

Connor stumbled over his own feet, almost face planting on the ground. He righted himself, giggling quietly. The front door of the house swung open, revealing the obnoxiously attractive Markus Manfred.

“Marky!” Connor called, giggling. He almost stumbled again. “Oops.”

“Holy shit, Connor,” Markus mumbled, running over to steady him. “I don’t know what I’m more surprised by. You calling me my first name or you being so drunk.”

“I’m not drunk! I only had…” Connor began counting on his fingers and laughed. “Okay, maybe I am drunk.”

“Yes, you are, Connor. Let’s get you inside.”

Markus all but carried Connor up the porch steps and into the house. He carefully set Connor on the couch. Markus set his hand on Connor’s forehead, checking his temperature. Connor giggled.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Making sure you don’t have alcohol poisoning. Do you feel nauseous?”

“Mmm, no. Just hungry.”

“Well, that’s a good sign, I guess. I think I have a frozen pizza. I’ll get you some water and make you that.”

“Thank you, Marky! So nice to me…”

Connor sat alone in the living for only about half an hour, entranced in a nature documentary about penguins. They mate for life… could Connor ever find a mate for life? He started crying.

“Oh no, hey, Connor? Why are you crying?” Markus placed the plate of pizza and a glass of water on the coffee table. He sat next to him on the couch. Connor looked over at him with tearful eyes.

“Did you know that penguins mate for life? Imagine just having someone to love you for so long…”

“Don’t worry, Connor, you’ll find someone for you.”

“No I won’t. Not in the line of work,” Connor grumbled. “You made pizza?”

“Yeah, here,” Markus handed him the pizza. “And what do you mean not in your line of work?”

“People don’t like me… mmm, ya know, the real me. I have a lot of shitty things about me and my past. And— and people don’t like to deal with that. I don’t blame ‘em. Just me ‘nd my baby brother. It really sucks.” Markus’s eyes widened while looking at him. Oh, God, Connor fucked up again, didn’t he? “I’m— I’m sorry.”

“No, no, Connor, I’m surprised that you think that no one would like you just because you have trauma. Hell, I have a lot of shit that happened in my life too. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Markus grabbed his hand gently. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Connor hiccuped, covering his mouth with his hand. He didn’t feel nauseous before, but he sure as hell felt gross now.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just, drink some water, please.”

Connor slowly brought the water to his lips, shaking taking a drink. Markus brushed a strand of hair from his eyes.

“Do you want to talk about it? Any of it?”

“No. Not tonight. I—can we just watch more penguins?”

“Are you gonna cry again?” Markus teased.

Connor giggled again. “Yeah, I won’t.”

Connor focused back on the documentary, taking bites of pizza every once and a while and finishing off his glass of water. Markus quickly went and grabbed him another. As the documentary played on, Connor felt himself moving closer and closer to Markus. His head ended up on his chest, Markus’s heart beating quickly.

His heartbeat lulled Connor to sleep.

* * *

“I meant to get him some ibuprofen, but he fell asleep on me, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him calm. He’s so peaceful.”

Connor wasn’t even half awake. He was still rested against Markus’s chest, but now more in a lying down fashion. He mumbled quietly, rubbing his eyes. Now half awake, he shot up off Markus’s chest. His stomach twisted at the sudden movement. Oh, no.

He sprinted down the hall, getting to the toilet to vomit just in time. He really hates that feeling.

“Connor? You okay in there?”

“Fine, just, really hungover.”

“Can I come in to get some medicine for you?”

“Yeah.”

Connor tried to straighten up when Markus walked in, but his head disagreed. Markus grabbed something from the cabinet and filled a glass with tap water. He sat down next to Connor on the tile.

“Here’s some ibuprofen, Con.”

Connor’s face flushed red, taking the medicine and swallowing it down quickly. “I’m sorry for last night, Senator.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t go back to calling me senator when you were calling me Marky last night.”

Connor shot a glare at Markus, but he was pretty sure it was thrown off by his bright red face. “Fine, Markus.”

Markus combed his fingers through Connor’s hair (and, no, he did not lean into it). “How much did you drink last night?”

“Only about two beers,” Connor chuckled, “...and like, 6 shots.”

“Jesus Christ, Connor, no wonder you were so drunk.”

“Yeah, well, Hank was having a rough day so I paid for drinks and he made me drink some.”

“Oh, is he okay? What happened?”

“He’s okay, but that’s his story to tell.”

“That’s fine, too,” Markus said, smiling softly. Connor felt his heartbeat speed up. “Do you want to call your brother? You were talking about that last night.”

“Yeah, I really shou-” As Connor tried to stand up, his nausea came back to knock him on his ass.

“Here, let me help you to your room.” Markus helped Connor stand and stumble to his room. “You’re that hungover?”

“Bite me. I haven’t had alcohol since I turned 27.” It took Connor a second to realize Markus doesn’t know how old he is. “I’m 32.”

“Five years?”

“I don’t have much free time.”

“We’ll have to change that. I mean, if I die, you will have more time on your hands,” Markus joked. Connor’s heart skipped a beat.

“Don’t joke about that,” Connor breathed out.

“I’m sorry, Connor, I forgot how seriously you take your job—”

“It’s not just my job!” For the love of God, Connor, shut up. “I— I care about you.”

Markus’s face flushed darker. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine… I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Alright. I’ll call into the office to tell them we’ll be late.”

Connor closed the door and hit his head against it.

Connor, you fucking idiot, he thought to himself. He is not making any connections. But why is Markus even a threat in the first place? Just— look into Kara Williams. You know her. He must be attached to that.

He walked carefully over to his bed and grabbed his phone off the nightstand where Markus left it to charge. He decides that his head is spinning too much to change out of his formal wear and just lay down.

He scrolled through his contacts before the names Nines appeared. He tapped it then tapped the call button before putting it to his ear. It rang exactly five and a half times before his brother picked up.

“Hey, Connie, I was just about to call you. You didn’t send in a report this morning.”

“I’m fine. I got drunk off my ass last night… don’t tell Amanda.”!

“I won’t tell Amanda… for twenty bucks.”

“You’re the worst brother ever and I need you to know that.”

“Fuck off. Why are you calling?”

“Why can’t I check up on my baby brother?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Fine! Fine. I need to know if you’ve ever heard of the name Kara Williams.”

Really, Connor just needed to hear his brother's voice. Sometimes he needs to know he’s still breathing. But Connor couldn’t say that and he needs to know about Kara anyways.

“Shit, I think? Let me get on the files.”

A few clicks came through the phone before a dog barked in the background.

“Are you at your apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Nines, are you committing a federal crime?”

“No, I’m working from home.”

“In our line of work, that’s the same thing.”

“Do you want the answer or not?”

“Give it to me.”

“Fine,” Conan said. “She was involved in the hit against Todd Williams.”

Connor needs a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS NOT GAY THEY'RE BOTH WEARING SOCKS


	8. young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: connor got drunk and had a talk with his brother
> 
> now: connor repressed a memory and freaks out

_Connor’s too young for this._

_It was one of his first missions at the ripe age of 22, and he was sent after a drug lord from the Detroit area. His brother sat in the car next to him, his mission face on as he checked the clip of this handgun. Connor’s gun was still held in his holster as he flipped a coin between his hands. He usually would be fiddling with his tie, but his disguise didn’t allow for one._

_“Hey, Con, remind me of our mission again, please,” Conan asked from the opposite window. Connor knew Conan already knew what they were there to do, but he was thankful for the distraction anyways._

_“Target: Todd Williams. Notorious drug dealer who specializes in making and selling red ice. Suspected to be planning a biological attack against the American medicinal industry. He needs to be taken out quickly, which is why Amanda sent us together.”_

_“You ready for our first mission as a team, Connie?”_

_Connor smirked. “Of course. I get the chance to show you I’m better.”_

_The car pulled to a stop. Elijah Kamski, one of their superiors, was driving them to the mission since he was Amanda’s most trusted student (and already in Detroit for family business, but no matter). His mouth curled into his cat-like grin. “This is as far as I can take you. Have fun, wonder twins.”_

_The brothers took a second to pull on hats and tug their hoods onto their heads. Conan climbed out of the car, rain immediately pelted his head. Connor quickly followed._

_As they walked down the sidewalk, Conan began speaking again. “Remember, Connor, you’re a red ice addict and I’m your bodyguard like brother. We’re looking to buy more red ice. I’m down to earth and you are ready to snap at a moment’s notice.”_

_Connor nodded absentmindedly, trying to shield his eyes from the downpour. His elbow groaned in annoyance, reminding him of the recent break that wasn’t quite healed._

_“This is the place.”_

_Connor looked up at the decrepit house. The front porch was rotting away. The boards were falling over themselves. The numbers hung from a single nail on the worn out door. The stairs looked as if you’d contract seventeen diseases if you tripped. So, of course, Conan started climbing them, each step groaning as if it were in pain. Connor followed closely and forced his hands to shake intensely. He was supposed to play an addict, so he damn well is going to do a great job._

_Conan tried to ring the bell, but it was broken. He resorted to knocking, knuckles sinking ever so slightly into the wood. The door was yanked open just an inch, revealing the chain that the door was locked with and the target’s cruel eye._

_“Chernobyl,” Conan said quietly, quietly enough to almost be drowned out by the construction across the street._

_The door slammed shut again and the sounds of locks clicking open could be heard. The door swung open to show the cold face and balding head of Todd Williams._

_“You here for the deal?” his gruff voice barked out._

_Conan let out a sly smirk to match the atmosphere. “Why else would we be here?”_

_Todd opened the door wide enough for the brothers to walk in. A set of stairs led to the upstairs on the left and the right led to the kitchen and living room. The stench of red ice came from the back room._

_Todd smiled a heartless smile. “So. You’re the poor bastard who needs more red ice, huh?”_

_The man grabbed a red ice pipe and popped it into his mouth. He grabbed a lighter and lit it._

_“You look like a little bitch boy. How the hell are you into this shit?”_

_“Shit happens, asshole,” Connor snapped and Conan threw an arm in front of him._

_“Calm down, Jay.”_

_“No,” Todd chuckled. “Let him come at me.”_

_Connor’s hands ball up into fists. The hit would be coming; a fight between a dealer and a client turned fatal._

_Then a baby’s cry pierced the silence._

_Conan’s eyes widened, bright blue eyes filling with fear. Connor’s fists unexpectedly relaxed. Todd snarled._

_“Shut the fuck up, you little bitch!”_

_Footsteps sounded down the hallway. Connor spotted a rattle and a pacifier in the middle of the steps._

_“Don’t you fuckin’ dare come down here, you whore!”_

_“Please, Todd, her pacifier is on the steps-”_

_“You fuckin’ heard me!” Todd snarled. He turned back to the brothers to continue the conversation. Connor was tuning it out, hands starting to shake in anger. Connor tensed as he saw feet creep down to grab the toy. His breath caught in his throat as the young woman reached down to grab the rattle._

_It shook._

_Todd whipped around to see the woman and growled. “What the fuck!”_

_He grabbed a baseball bat and had a second to walk towards the woman and her baby when Connor tackled him._

_The fight wasn’t long, just Connor dodging the swings before he grabbed his gun, pressed the cold metal to his forehead, and pulled the trigger. The woman gasped as the floor behind Todd became covered with red blood. He holstered his gun before rushing over to the woman._

_She was young, blonde hair pulled back into a bun. This is the first time that Connor noticed a baby in the woman’s arms. His features softened. He forced himself to have a determined gaze when he met her eyes._

_“You will wait four minutes after we leave and call the police. Tell them it was a fight between him and a drug client. Leave and find Rose Chapman. She’ll help you and your baby… what’s her name?”_

_“...Alice.”_

_“Well, Alice, good luck to you and your mommy.”_

_“Connor, we have to go.”_

_The brothers started to rush out before the woman called out, “Wait!”_

_The two stopped and she met Connor’s eyes. “Thank you for saving us.”_

“Connor? Hello? You still there?”

Connor swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine. You said you were going to call me about something?”

“Yeah. An update on the mission itinerary. We’re going to fake an assassination attempt against Manfred and you’ll save him to gain trust of the public and those at Jericho. Best part?”

“Oh, God, what’s the ‘best part’?”

“I’m on the mission. So your favorite brother gets to visit you!”

Of course. Of _fucking_ course she didn’t trust Connor enough to keep his mission in line, so now she’s sending Conan. Why was he even surprised at this point? His teeth clenched as he replied, “Can’t wait!”

“Shit, well, I have to go. See you soon!”

Connor huffed angrily, squeezing his cell phone tightly. He chucked it at the wall, leaving a sizeable dent.

“...Shit.”

“Connor? Are you alright?”

“Yeah! Sorry, I put a dent in your wall.”

“Could I come in?”

“Sure.”

The door slowly opened, revealing Markus now wearing a button up and tie. Connor was sitting on his bed and Markus walked over to sit next to him.

“Are you okay?” Markus asked softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Fine, Senator.”

“Wow, you really like shutting people out when you’re feeling any negative emotions.”

Connor whipped his head around to stare at Markus. “What?”

“I said you like shutting people out, but you don’t need to. I know bad things have happened to you, but I don’t know what, and I know you hate talking about it, but you don’t need to bottle it up. You have friends here, Connor.” Markus’s hand ended up resting on Connor’s. Connor’s breath hitched. What was he supposed to do?

He wanted to turn his palm up. He wanted to hold Markus’s hand. He couldn’t, he fucking _couldn’t_ , he had to kill the senator. Why would he even want to hold his hand, though? He didn’t have any attachments to him. He _didn’t_.

He ripped his hand from underneath Markus’s. He shot up, staring at his hands. His breath shortened, quickening exponentially. Tears came to his eyes. What was happening? Why is he like this?

“Hey, hey, Connor, I need you to take a deep breath.” Markus grabbed his shoulders, trying to comfort him. “Come on, deep breath in.”

Connor’s hands were shaking as they reached for his hair. He tugged.

“Connor, Connor, no—”

“ _WE’RE NOT FRIENDS!_ ” Connor shouted, pushing Markus away. “We’re not friends. You’re my mission.”

“We don’t have to be friends, but I’m not leaving until you calm down.”

He ran an arm across his eyes, pushing away all the tears that fell ( _when did that happen?_ ). He forced himself to take in air. He swallowed hard, trying to keep himself grounded. His fists uncurled.

Markus smiled softly. “You feel any better?”

“I’ll be ready for work in thirty minutes.”

“Connor, we should talk about this—”

“Please, get out. I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”

“Fine. But we are going to talk about this later,” Markus said, voice laced with a sense of finality. Connor knew he wasn’t going to get out of it.

As the door shut, Connor sunk down the wall. He tilted his head back, hitting it against the wall. He took a few breaths to get his shit together. He stood back up on shaky legs, grabbing clothes before taking a quick shower. He still felt sick. 

The shower felt like it was freezing, despite it being as hot as it could go. He felt out of his body. _Dissociation._ That’s what the DATA therapist called it. He’s only gone through medical school, what does he know? Maybe Markus has a point when he says Connor needs help.

Skin bright red from the heat of the water, he walked out of his room, still tying his tie. Markus looked up with him, concern still in his multicolored eyes. 

“Ready to go?” Markus asked. 

“Sure.”

The drive was covered by a heavy silence. Connor’s hands fiddled quickly with his coin. Markus kept taking glances at his coin tricks. 

“Hey, Connor, do you want to go to dinner tonight? I’ve been craving seafood recently.”

“Whatever you want, Senator.”

Markus sighed softly and finished off the drive. They entered the building.

As he entered the building, Kara grabbed his arm and pulled him to the side. 

“Mr. Stern, we need to talk.”

Connor’s too old for this. 


	9. exposed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: connor repressed a memory and freaks out
> 
> now: connor faces consequences and reflects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Past child death/blood

Connor’s too exposed for this.

He knew he was a bad person, but due to the nature of his job, he never thought he’d had to deal with the consequences. But here he was, in a small, vacant office, with consequences staring him right in the face.

Despite what Connor wants to believe, he is an empath. The heavy feeling in his stomach he constantly ignored is guilt. Especially on this case. Connor likes Markus, he even would like to call Markus a friend, but he can’t be Markus’s friend. Markus is Connor’s target, nothing more, nothing less. And with Kara looking up at him with anger and fear shining in her eyes, the heavy feeling grew a bit more in his gut.

“What do you need, Mrs. Williams?”

“I know who you are.”

Connor’s hands began shaking. His throat constricted, barely letting enough air through to his lungs. His blinking increased. He squeezed out, “What do you mean?”

“I know who you are,” she repeated, taking a step closer to him. “I know  _ what  _ you are. You killed him.”

Connor saw two ways out. Play dumb or lie.He weighed the situations and their success rates in his head. Lying had an 84% success rate while playing dumb had a measly 24%. He loves an easy choice. 

“Mrs. Williams, I’m-” his voice cut off. Why couldn’t he speak? “I’m exactly what you think I am.” \

Good job, Connor. That’s the exact opposite of what you wanted to say.

Kara’s eyes filled with fear as her hands balled into tight fists. “Who the hell are you here for?” she asked with a conviction Connor wouldn’t have believed she could’ve mustered.

“No one!” he rushed out, taking a step closer to the woman. “That’s- I’m not like that anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” she hissed.

“Well, you should, because it’s the truth,” he insisted. He let out a shaky breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “I- the job. It became so much. Too much. I have killed so many. I’m thirty two and I already have hundreds of confirmed kills. There’s so much blood on my hands, so every time I thought, ‘Why not a little bit more?’ I have nightmares, I hear gunshots everywhere. I can still feel the river where I was forced to drown a man! But, it was for the good of the country, so it’s okay, right? It doesn’t matter, for the greater good, right?”

Connor was near hysterics. He took a second to take a deep breath, ignoring the tears running down his cheeks. He wasn’t even sure if he was lying at this point. He swallowed, dragging his sleeve across his face.

“This is my first protection mission,” he lied, the usual hollowness replacing the overwhelming guilt. “Please,  _ please  _ don’t tell them.”

Kara looked surprised-no-she was surprised. Connor wanted to wilt under her gaze. Her blue eyes were steeled against him. 

“Why did you kill him?” she asked softly. Connor didn’t need to ask for clarification. 

“He was planning an attack. It could’ve killed millions,” Connor replied, voice barely rising above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

She brought her hand to his cheek, cupping it in a maternal way. Her hand burned his skin. “Don’t be. You probably saved my life as well.”

Connor’s heart dropped. “What do you mean?” 

“He was terrible to me. He-He did unspeakable things. What you saw was barely a fraction of it.” The woman let out a humorless laugh, eyes not meeting his. “I thank God everyday that Alice was too young to remember.” 

“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, feeling more tears spring back into his eyes. When did he get so emotional?

“I can’t say that I trust you, Connor,” she said quietly, “but I believe you. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, and if I see anything suspicious, I’ll be going straight to Markus.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less from out future VP.”

Kara gave him one last look over before patting him on the shoulder softly and walking back into the office.

Connor’s stomach churned as he followed her.

* * *

No one expected as late of a night that the office officials had. It was only 10PM, but Markus has been arguing on the phone since 5PM. The last time Connor walked into his office, Markus waved him away with an annoyed expression (it hurt, though Connor can’t figure out why).

So, now Connor sat in a McDonald's parking lot, chugging a black coffee and waiting for the rest of his order to be finished. He didn’t realize one of the job requirements for assassin was  _ delivery boy _ . He was in Simon’s car’s passenger seat, the broken CD player replaying the same Taylor Swift album again and again. He wanted to bang his head against the dashboard.

Drowning out the 2000’s country music, the almost-silence gave Connor too much room to think. He always thinks too much about Markus, so much that his head begins to spin. Connor has been trained to detect lies, trained his instinct to find bad people, but Markus just seems good to him. In fact, Markus feels like he’s too good to be true. He’s a kind man with a nice smile who genuinely seems like he wants to make the world a better place. And a weird pull in Connor’s gut makes him gravitate towards the man. He wants to help him make the world better.

Then he remembers, he will have to murder him in cold blood and he’ll continue being a terrible person.

But would he be a bad person? It would be for the good of the country right?   


But Markus is a good person. There’s no evidence he’s going to hurt the current president.

Connor’s head hurts. At this point, there was a constant dull ache at the front of his skull. It only grew worse as he questioned the morality of his job. 

He thought back on what he said to Kara. Was he lying? The words were pouring out of his mouth at an ungodly speed; he wasn’t able to think to lie before the words came out. 

The worst part was that Connor wouldn’t even be able to get out of this life if he wanted to. There’s two ways out of ATA: they either retire you, or you get killed. The memory of his brother’s death was still fresh in his mind, as if it had happened yesterday.

It was a test for Conrad. Despite being the most aggressive of the brothers, he was reluctant to kill, even the small animals the teachers provided them. So they put him in a long white hallway, one way mirrors lining both sides. Connor and Conan were dragged to the observation rooms. Shortly after, Conan was forced out of Connor's reach at gunpoint and into one end of the hallway. He could distinctly remember the fear in Conan’s eyes. Conrad was let into the room on the opposite side.

_ ‘Choose _ ,’ Amanda’s voice rang in his ears, ‘ _ either the RK900’s life or kill the man threatening him _ .’ 

Conan was crying now, hands still gripping the arm that covered his mouth but no longer struggling. Conrad kicked the gun lying on his feet away from himself. Despite his young age, Conrad spoke in crude language. ‘ _ You’re full of shit, Amanda.’ _

_ ‘Don’t test me, RK700.’ _

_ ‘You wouldn’t kill one of your best soldiers!Your bluff is terrible.’ _

_ ‘Last chance, 700.’ _

_ ‘Do your worst, bi-’ _

His twin was cut off by a gunshot. Conan screamed, struggling against his now chuckling casptor. He bit the arm of the man, but failed to fully get loose.

_ ‘Conrad!’  _ Conan screamed. ‘ _ Conrad, no! Please! No!’ _

Connor was frozen where he stood. His brother was dead. They  _ killed _ his brother. Conrad laid limp on the white linoleum, red splatters painting the wall behind where his head once stood. A puddle of blood pooled around his head. Watching the red draining from his brother’s face-one that matched his own perfectly-scarred him. He keeled over and threw up. A few seconds later, his little brother was tucked into his chest, Connor’s face pressed into his hair to avoid looking at his twin’s corpse. 

They never had a funeral. Within the hour, Amanda told the boys to forget about Conrad, like all he was was a failed experiment. Connor threw up again when Conan nodded, his usual bright eyes void of any emotion. 

Connor was only eight.  _ Conrad  _ was only eight. 

Some nights, when Connor can’t sleep and the face of his dead brother haunts his dreams, his mind wanders back to it. How they were nothing but child soldiers to the government. Hell, he knew how to work a gun before he could write in cursive. His last test was when he was nine and his first mission as an apprentice when he was ten. He was a killer before middle school. 

He didn’t have a choice, no one really does at that age. He looked at the adults and did as they said. And on his thirtieth birthday, when Conan was on a mission and Conrad’s dead body wouldn’t leave his mind, he turned his pistol on himself. 

And he didn’t take the shot.

He had to keep going. The night Conrad died, when his bed was suddenly gone from their shared dorm, he and Conan made a pact. They had to stay alive for each other. He wasn’t alive for himself any longer, he was surviving for Conan. 

A knock on the window drew Connor from his thoughts. Simon smiled, pointing at the lock on the car door. Connor forced his stiff arm to unlock it. 

“Hey!” Simon greeted, placing the greasy fast food bag on Connor’s lap. “You okay? You looked a little out of it.” 

“I’ll be fine,” he said quickly. 

Simon nodded awkwardly, buckling his seat belt and pulling out of the McDonald’s parking lot. 

“So,” Simon started, eyes flickering back and forth between Connor and the road, “how’re you liking it in Detroit?”

“It’s fine. You’ve all been very welcoming.” 

“Good! We all try. Except North. She can be a little cold.” 

Connor hates small talk with a passion. Especially since he’s not good at it. 

“Also, tissues are in the glove box. I saw you crying, but I know it’s not really my place to ask why. If you do ever want to talk, though, I’m here.”

Connor swallowed before grabbing the tissues from the department. He wiped his face gently. Connor still thinks Conan and Simon would be a good match  (and maybe his brother would be happy without him ). “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Simon smiled. “You’re one of us now, Connor.”

Connor didn’t understand how so many good people could be in one friend group. His stomach continued to fold over on itself until they reached the office once again. 

As Simon grabbed one of the bags from him, Connor blurted out, “Thank you. For being so welcoming, I mean.”

Simon gave him a gentle smile. “No problem, Con.”

They walked into the office together and dispersed the food to the other leaders. Half way through everyone eating, Markus emerged from his office and leaned on his doorframe. His eyes were trained on the ground, clearly deep in thought. 

“Connor? Can we talk?”

Connor felt like hiding.


	10. bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: connor faces consequences and reflects
> 
> now: connor's gay and in trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Shooting

It’s too bright for this. 

Despite the streetlights shining a dim light into the office, Markus still has most of his lights on. Bright office, bright mind, as he always said. Markus was currently sitting on the leather loveseat on the front wall of his office, staring at paperwork in one hand, his other holding his bad coffee. 

“You wanted to talk, Markus?”

Markus’s face lit up at the mention of his actual name. “Yeah. Come sit.” 

He took a tentative seat next to the senator. His dinner sat on his desk, only half eaten. A crease was set in between Markus’s eyebrows as he finally folded the giant stapled stack of papers, throwing it on his desk. He smiled gently.

“Feeling any better?”

“Yeah. All sobered up,” Connor joked, not meeting his eyes.

“We should talk about this morning.”

There it was. The one statement Connor has been dreading all day. Connor did not want to talk about his mini-breakdown. He’s supposed to be in control of his emotions. He was planning on ignoring the problem until it had gone away.

“...do we have to?”

Markus looked disappointed. “No, Connor. We don’t  _ have  _ to do anything, but I’m worried about you.

Suddenly, Markus’s hand was resting on Connor’s knee, and Connor’s heart jumped into his throat. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Ignoring the problem doesn’t make it go away, Connor.”

“It’s worked so far.”

Connor was staring at his feet now. Markus’s hand slowly retreated. 

“Please, Connor. I’m worried about you.”

The sincerity in his voice made Connor nauseous.

“Fine,” Connor said, will finally crumbling. “Let’s talk.”

“What happened this morning?”

“I had an unprofessional meltdown. It won’t happen again.”

“I know that. I want to know what caused it and what to do to help you if it happens again.”

“It  _ won’t  _ happen again.”

“But what if it does? You don’t need to bottle up all of your emotions constantly.”

“My job is to protect you, not the other way around.”

“People care about you, Connor!” Markus finally snapped. “We all care about you.  _ I  _ care about you. Hell, I think you even got Hank to like you! We want to help you, but we can’t if you don’t let us. Please, please let us, Connor.”

Connor forced a breath down his throat. “I was reminded of an old case, okay?! I got too close and it came back to bite me in the ass. I’m not in the profession to make friends. But then you came in and comforted me and I didn’t know what to do because  _ I can’t get close to you  _ no matter how much I want to.”

Connor didn’t know where that came from. He doesn't want to be friends with Markus, goddammit,  _ he can’t want to be close to Markus. _

Markus sighed quietly. “Do you know why I got into politics?”

“No, Senator, I don’t believe I do.”

Markus laughed a little. “I was a little mixed boy on the streets until I was six. Then, by some grace of god, Carl Manfred, one of the richest and most famous artists alive took me in. Then all my life, the world, including my brother, told me I was a child of pity. When I liked art over sports, I was constantly pushed down by the other teens. When I came out in college, I was told I’d never make it in the political sphere. So, you wanna know what I did?”

“I don’t see how this is pertinent-”

“Do you know what I did?”

Connor sighed. Markus was too persistent for his own good.

“I fought back. I said that I refuse to conform to their standards. And I was fucking  _ terrified _ . But, I was never one for following societal rules,” Markus finished, an old fire lighting back up into his eyes. “I can’t force you to follow me, Connor, but if you truly want to become friends with us, then make your own set of rules.”

Connor realized how close they were. They gravitated towards each other while Markus was talking, and they leaned towards each other, noses almost touching.

“You’re such a great speaker that I can tell why you made it so far in politics.”

Markus chuckled. “You flatter me.”

For a second, for one  _ beautiful  _ moment, Connor forgot all about the dangers. He forgot about ATA. He let out the most genuine smile he had in a long time. 

“I think you’re right,” Connor whispered. “The rules are bullshit.”

Markus’s eyelids fluttered shut. Connor followed his lead. They both leaned in and-

“Hey, Markus- oh shit!”

They flew apart, Connor jumping to his feet and Markus plastering himself to the other side of the couch. Both of their faces were burning bright red. Josh stood at the door, shell shocked. 

“I, uh, was I interrupting something?”

“No, not at all,” Markus nervously insisted, standing up and straightening his shirt. “What do you need?”

“Just wanted to let you know that we all finished up our work and are heading home.”

“Got it, go ahead. Connor and I will probably be right behind you guys.”

Josh looked at Markus, then at Connor, then back at Markus. He nodded awkwardly before backing out of the room.

The drive  home to Markus’s house was elapsed in an awkward silence. Connor’s stomach churned from the mistake and his lips tingle from the almost-kiss. The one question that kept repeating in his mind was ‘ _ Did I actually want to kiss him? _ ’

* * *

The following week was extremely awkward in Markus’s house. Connor didn’t want to talk about what happened, and since Markus hasn’t brought it up either, Connor’s guessing it was just a mistake on his part. 

Besides, Connor was supposed to kill the guy, not fall in love with him.

Not like Connor was falling in love with him! He wasn’t.

Despite his complicated non-love life, Connor still had a job to do. Today was the first of many campaign rallies, but little does Markus or anyone else know, there would be an assassination attempt. Fake, of course, but it would still build trust in Jericho and their supporters. Conan shoots at the floor behind Markus, Connor moves Markus out of the way, the public and Jericho falls in love with Connor. Simple. 

Connor was wearing his usual slightly loose button up and DATA issued coat. He took extra care putting his hair back. He would be praised as a hero today, and it’ll most likely be the last time, so he’s going to look good.

A sharp knock came from his door. “Come in!”

The door swung open to reveal the one and only Markus Manfred, hair newly cut and stubble shaved from his chin. Connor felt a tinge of disappointment. He liked the stubble. 

“Ready to go?” he asked. Connor looked at his too tight plain shirt and jeans. Markus smiled sheepishly. “Luther told me he has a suit waiting for me.”

Connor shrugged. “Doubt it’ll look as good as the one you wore to the gala.”

“I doubt that, too, especially since we won’t be matching this time.”

The playful banter left an awkward pause. Connor straightened his tie, ignoring his emotions. “Let’s go, Senator.”

Connor was expecting the car ride, like the rest of the week, to be consumed in an awkward silence. To his displeasure, he was wrong. As soon as they started down the road, Markus began to speak.

“We need to talk about the other night.”

Connor resisted the urge to tuck and roll onto the road. “It seems we ‘need’ to talk about a lot of things recently.”

Markus barked out a strained laugh. “I guess it’s on me for starting all my serious conversations like that, huh?”

Connor didn’t respond.

“Well when we-you-when I?” Markus took a deep breath, as if he were trying to clear the words from his throat. “We need to talk about how we almost kissed.”

Connor didn’t want to. He didn’t want to talk about the tornado of emotions swirling around his chest. He didn’t want to talk about how he when he sees Markus, the man he has to  _ kill _ , he wants to kiss him and hold his stupid hand. 

So he didn’t. He just said, “There’s nothing to talk about. We were both thinking about our old traumas, our emotions were heightened, and that’s all there was. We were both in distress, looking for affection.”

“Oh,” Markus mumbled. “Glad we agree, then.”

At that moment, he realized Markus was a terrible liar. For the sake of himself, though, he ignored that fact. 

Once they made it to the back of the office, Josh was already pacing by the back entrance. When the two men exited the car, he immediately perked up.

“Where the hell have you two been? Markus, you’re supposed to be on stage in twenty minutes!” Josh snapped, jogging over to Markus to rush him to the office. 

“Josh, calm down, I’m here now. I’m early!”

“You’re on time, if not late. You still have to get dressed and go over your speech.”

“Josh, buddy, we’ll be fine.”

“You can speak when you’re not pushing your communications director over the edge,” Josh argued back, shoving him into an office with Luther standing in it. “Get dressed.”

“Are you alright, Josh?” Connor asked quietly. 

Josh let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m fine. I can just feel the aneurysm coming on, though.”

Josh suddenly walked off, muttering to himself and typing things into his phone. Connor was thankful for the short term quietness, or at least he was until the head of security, John, ran up to him.

“Connor! Hey, are you caught up on the security details yet?”

Shit. This could throw a wrench in ATA’s plans. “No, I haven’t. What’s going on?”

John handed a clipboard with a paper covered with multicolored symbols. “This is the idea. The green is Markus in the front middle of the stage, my guys are the blues surrounding parts of the stage, and you’re the purple. Do you have any suggestions?”

John has placed Connor behind some of his guards, near the back edge of the stage. That wouldn’t work at all.

“I don’t feel comfortable being so far from the senator. I’d like to be in front of your guards, maybe a foot or two behind him.”

“Are you sure? I think you’d be used best at the back, being able to observe more space-”

“John, I understand, but my job is to protect the senator. I can’t protect him from immediate threats from so far away.”

John bit the inside of his cheek, obviously displeased by the outcome of the situation, but he realized the authority in the situation. “Yessir. I’ll update my people.”

Josh ran back up as Josh left and pounded on the door of the office Markus was changing in. “T minus three minutes, Markus! Hurry up before I have a heart attack.”

The door swung open, revealing Markus in a nice navy blue suit. Markus smiled at Connor before being pulled along by Josh. 

“Go over your speech with me,” Josh commanded, and Connor followed them closely. Markus held notecards and prattled off different parts of his speech. He shoved both Connor and Markus through a big door. “Good luck.”

The light of the day was blinding, but Markus didn’t seem to notice. He walked up to the stage, waving at the crowd kindly. John’s guards moved out of his way as he took his spot behind Markus.

He didn’t fully pay attention to the speech, but he was listening to the keywords that signified the shot from Conan. He memorized Markus’s speech, so he knew it was coming up soon, only about three paragraphs away. Despite his knowledge on the plan, he still could swear he saw a glint from a rooftop three buildings over.

_ You’re imagining things, Connor _ , he told himself.  _ He’s supposed to be on the rooftop parallel to us. You just saw a bird or something. _

He couldn’t ignore the glinting from the incorrect rooftop, despite how hard he tried. He was counting down the sentences of the speech until the plan was supposed to go down. 

_ 10… 9… 8… _

A gunshot went off, and Connor, working on pure instinct, shoved Markus to the side. He could barely focus on anything over the screaming of the crowd, but the burning hot pain on the side of his neck still caught his attention.

The next few moments were blurry. He remembered Markus kneeling over him, pulling off his jacket and pressing it against his neck. He remembered John rushing over to him. He remembers someone screaming,  _ ‘Call 911!’ _

He remembers everything going black. 


	11. nervous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> previously: connor's gay and in trouble
> 
> now: markus is worried

Markus is too nervous for this.

He has stood in the corner of the waiting room for a solid thirty-eight minutes thinking, and his heart rate still hasn’t slowed to a normal pace. Someone tried to  _ kill  _ him. Of course, he’s gotten death threats before, but he never thought someone would go through with them! Also, Connor put his life on the line to save him. Connor might  _ die  _ because he decided Markus’s life came before his own.

Markus felt nauseous.

He fully acknowledged his feelings towards Connor. He knows full well he wanted to kiss Connor before Josh walked in on them. But, obviously, Connor didn’t feel the same, so why is he even still thinking about it? He doesn’t have time to think about it. He has an election to win and a dying friend to take care of!

_ Oh, God… Connor is dying _

A few more swears flowed from the desk in the waiting room. Hank was still fighting with the nurses. He’s been trying to get word on Connor’s conditions since he arrived at the hospital, but since he wasn’t family, they refused to give them much information. 

“Damned nurses,” Hank mumbled, walking up to the group huddled in the corner of the room. “Won’t give me the slightest idea of what’s happening. All I know is that he’s still in surgery.”

Markus nodded toward the clipboard in Hank’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Information the hospital needs about Connor. I don’t know any of it, though. We’re lucky he’s randomly told me his blood type.”

“Hand it over,” Markus commanded, reaching for it. Hank carefully handed it over.

“Y’ sure, Markus?”

“I live with the guy, I’m the most likely to know this stuff until his brother arrives.”

Hank’s eyebrow rose. “His brother’s coming?”

“Yes, I called him. I’m not sure how long it’ll take him to get here, though.”

As Markus finished his sentence, a tall, broad-shouldered man that looked like an almost exact copy of Connor stomped into the hospital. His cold blue eyes surveyed the waiting room before landing on Markus. He stormed over, completely ignoring the rest of the group. If it weren’t for Hank grabbing his shoulders, Markus is sure he would’ve choked him out. 

“Where is he?”

When Markus’s brain gets scared, it gets dumb. “What?”

“Are you deaf or just dumb?” he sneered, struggling against Hank’s grip. “Where’s my brother?”

“I- we don’t know anything yet!”

“Yeah fucking right, Manfred, I-”

“Hey!” Simon called, raising his voice slightly. The man’s face seemed to soften a bit and he stopped struggling. “There’s no use in fighting. You’re Connor’s brother, right?”

“Yes. Conan Stern.”

“Well, since your family, you can go get information on how Connor’s doing, right?”

The man, Conan, swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing. “I can? Where?”

“I can show the kid,” Hank said. Markus knew Conan didn’t have to be explicitly shown, but instead just told, but the look of fear and determination in Hank’s eyes dared them to dispute.

“I’m going too!” Markus insisted, standing up straighter.

“Fuck off!” 

“No. I’m worried too, Conan. I want to come.”

“This is-” Conan paused and cleared his throat. “Whatever you want, Senator.”

Hank led the two to the nurse’s desk and Conan immediately walked up to the nurse on duty. “Conan Stern. Can I have any information on my brother, Connor Stern?”

The middle-aged nurse looked boredly at the three men. She sighed heavily before typing on her too-loud keyboard. “Still in surgery.”

“Can I have any more information?” Conan asked, his angry exterior slowly crumbling. “Survival rate? Who the surgeon is?  _ Anything? _ ”

“The bullet hit his right jugular and he’s still in surgery. That’s all I know, but I still need someone to fill out Connor’s medical information.”

“Fine,” Conan huffed and stomped off. Markus watched as he took the clipboard and pen from Simon and started angrily scribbling on the paper. 

Markus let out a nervous chuckle. “Connor told me he was the nice brother, but I didn’t believe it until now.”

Hank glared at him. “His brother could die, Markus. Give him a break.”

“Connor’s not going to die,” Markus said, the familiar feeling of guilt settling into his stomach. “Connor’s stronger than that.”

Markus left Hank at the nurse’s station and walked back over to the group. 

“Any updates?” Josh asked softly. Oh, God, he remembered how Markus and Connor almost kissed. He’s pitying them both. 

Markus shrugged non committedly. “He’s still in surgery. Apparently the bullet scraped his right jugular.”

Josh’s eyebrows raised. “The  _ jugular? _ ”

Markus has never been more thankful for a sudden appearance from John. The guard stumbled through the automatic doors. “Hey, guys, sorry I’m late, I had to deal with the chaos, but it’s under control. Is Connor doing okay?”

“Hey, John, it’s no problem. All we know is that he’s still in surgery and the bullet hit his jugular. Did anyone else get hurt?”

John looked shocked. “The jugular? Holy shit, but, no. No one else was hurt. We did a sweep of the surrounding buildings and found a sniper on a rooftop. We believe that’s where the shooter was. There’s more but… it’s kinda confidential.”

Markus’s eyebrows furrowed. What the hell did that mean? “Understandable, but this is Connor’s brother, Conan Stern. He works with Connor and may be able to help you on the case.”

“I can’t,” Conan said, looking up from the medical clipboard. “Since Connor’s been… hurt, I will most likely be taking over the mission of  _ protecting  _ the senator.”

The emphasis on ‘protecting’ sent a shiver down Markus’s spine and his heart squeezed once he fully processed his words. 

“Wait, Connor would be taken off the case?” John asked, eyes flicking to Markus.

“He’s been shot,” Conan repeated. “Even if… no,  _ when  _ he survives, he’ll need a while to recover. Either way, it’s all your fault, so why do you even care,  _ Senator? _ ”

They elapsed into silence as Markus’s stomach folded over on itself. 

* * *

Conan’s chest slowly rose up and down as he slept. How he managed to cram his gigantic frame into the little plastic waiting room chair, Markus will never know. Four hours have passed and the sun has sunk back behind the horizon. Most of the group already left, only leaving Conan, Hank, and Markus behind. 

Hank was not able to stay still. He kept standing up and pacing about before turning around and sitting back down. Markus was thankful for the empty waiting room each time Hank repeated his routine. 

Markus felt his eyes wanting to shut, but each time they did, a nervous twinge from his heart said to him “ _ What if something happens while I’m asleep? What if Connor needs me? _ ” Hank’s pacing really wasn’t helping his anxiety. 

Once Hank stood for the sixth time in four minutes, Markus accidentally snapped, “Hank, could you please stop that?”

Hank’s glare made him cower. “Sorry. I’m just really stressed.”

“We all are, Markus. Jesus Christ.”

Markus knew about Hank’s son’s death. His ex-wife put an obituary for the boy in the local newspaper, which let him learn about the drunk driver who killed his son. He doesn’t know much else, but from the way Hank was pacing around, he could infer.

“Are you okay, Hank?” Markus asked in a gentle voice.

Hank glared at him again. “Do I look okay?”

“...Do you wanna talk about it?” Markus offered.

Hank shook his head in aggravation. “I’m just… worried. For both the Stern boys. Connor said they rely pretty heavily on each other.”

Markus’s gaze was pulled toward the sleeping man. He reminded Markus of Connor. Firm in consciousness, only relaxed in sleep. He looked back at the police lieutenant. 

“You see Connor as a son, don’t you?”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too nosey for your own good?”

“My dad calls it observant.”

Hank opened his mouth to say something before the nurse walked into the waiting room and said, “You three are still here for Connor Stern, right?”

Markus stood and straightened his shirt. “Yes, yes we are.”

“He was just moved to the recovery room. One visitor is allowed at a time.”

Hank looked over at Markus. “Go ahead. Conan obviously needs sleep and if he wakes up and sees you, he won’t be very happy.”

Markus smiled softly. “Thanks, Hank.”

Markus followed the nurse through the maze of hallways before walking through a door that was labeled, ‘Recovery Room.’ The stark white room only had one other young woman curled up in a hospital bed, two away from Connor’s. 

Connor was still unconscious, face relaxed for the first time in forever. While asleep, the two Stern brothers looked almost identical, a youthful peace settling on their faces. Connor’s neck was covered with a large bandage, and Markus was extremely happy to see no red on it. 

“If he wakes up, please make him drink some juice and eat some goldfish. Also, keep him from turning his neck too much.”

Markus nodded absentmindedly, taking the chair next to Connor’s bed. An apple juice box and a small bag of goldfish lay unopened on the bedside table. His chest slowly rose and fell. Markus could finally calm his nerves. Connor was alright. The nurse slid the separating curtain shut, making Connor’s hand twitch. 

Connor scrunched his nose before lifting his eyelids ever so slightly. His warm brown eyes shifted around the room before landing on Markus. He slurred out, “Senator? What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Con. Are you feeling alright?” The nickname, in all honesty, just slipped out of his mouth. Markus quickly grabbed the apple juice from the side table, poked the straw in it, and held it up to Connor’s mouth. “Here, drink this.”

He took a few slow, calculated sips. “Where am I?”

“The hospital. You gave us quite the scare,” Markus said, forcing out a chuckle. “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy… and my neck hurts.”

“Yeah, you got some stitches there.”

Connor nodded lazily, putting some goldfish in his mouth. “Makes sense. Did I get shot? Is Conrad here? Is he okay?”

“Yeah, Con, you did,” Markus smiled. “Conan is asleep in the waiting room. He’s worried about you.”

“Tell him I’m okay, please? We can’t lose each other, Markus. Not after Conrad.”

Markus’s throat closed up in worry. “Who’s Conrad?”

Connor’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh, oh, no. You’re not supposed to know that… oh, no…”

“Hey, hey, Con, it’s okay. I won’t ask again.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled. He leaned his head slightly toward Markus. “You’re so good. Too good for me. Why are you so perfect?”

“Oh, I’m not perfect. I have made many, many mistakes, Connor. I put people I love in trouble all the time, like what just happened with you. I’m nowhere near perfect.”

“No, you are perfect. You’re so pretty and nice, even to people like me. I don’t deserve you, Marky.” Connor’s hand rose to rest on Markus’s cheek. “I’m so happy you’re not hurt.”

Markus sighed, placing his hand on top of Connor’s. “But  _ you  _ got hurt, Connor.”

“No, no, I deserve it.”

“Connor, no you  _ don’t _ .”

“You don’t know the things I’ve done,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears

“Honestly, Connor,  _ I don’t care. _ You saved my life out there today. I will be forever thankful for that,” Markus whispered back. “You’re amazing.”

Connor stayed silent for a minute, eyes slowly fluttering and slowly closing more and more. Markus thought he fell asleep until he said, “You’re so amazing. I wish I could be with you.”

Markus’s heart squeezed. He’s too out of it, he’s not saying anything true. “Get some sleep, Con. You need to rest.”

Connor nodded slowly before holding out his hand. “Stay?”

Markus carefully intertwined their fingers. “Of course.”

Markus watched over him as he fell back into unconsciousness, leaving Markus with his own gay, panicked thoughts.


End file.
